Prey
by Suki-Itami
Summary: Confused for 10 years about his friend's abandonment, Kyle makes a horrible mistake: he marries Eric Cartman. 6 months afterward, he realizes this mistake but can't and won't do anything about it. Until a certain raven-haired man comes back into his life.
1. Welcome to my Life

_Chapter 1: Welcome to my Life_

His eyes. I think that's what drew me in. Those chocolate brown orbs that pierced my soul and made me feel vulnerable. When we were children they were cold and unyielding, but they softened over the years. That's what captured me. But...lately...

I turned around at the sound of a plate shattering and, before I could react, a pudgy fist suddenly connected with my cheek.

His eyes have changed back. Cold, unyielding, and demeaning.

My own green eyes widen in fear as those glaring chocolate daggers met mine. Not again, please, not again.

"Stupid bitch," he growled with his fist clenched in front of his chest, "get up!"

Slowly, I stood on shaking legs and braced myself for the next blow.

...

"Ky~yle...!" A familiar voice sang.

I looked up at the smiling blonde-haired, blue-eyes face of my best friend and sighed. Knowing him, he just skipped all the way over to me. "You realize you're in a library, right?" I glanced over at the gray-haired woman sending us a glare.

He shrugged, the movement made his over-sized orange parka shift slightly. "Oh well."

I sighed again. "Dammit Kenny..." I closed my political science textbook and stood. "Come on," I pulled him towards the door, "let's go outside."

Outside, Kenny pulled a pack of Pall Mall's out of one of the deep pockets of his parka. When I asked what he wanted, he said, "I wanted to ask you something." He lit up the stick between his lips, not noticing when I flinch away.

"What is it?" I want to grab that damn thing and stomp it out, but that would raise questions I'd rather not answer.

"Would you and the fat ass be opposed to joining me and Butters for dinner tonight?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I'll ask him when I get home."

Kenny nodded once. "Okay." He turned to walk away, but stopped and looked back at me. "Kyle?"

"Yeah?"

His sapphire eyes rested on my cheek and on the purple-black bruise I knew was there. "How'd that get there?"

"I, uh," my fingertips brushed the bruise lightly and I flinched a bit; it still hurt, "ran into a door frame. Don't worry about it."

Even though I said that, the look in his eyes said he was going to worry about it. He always did, **everyone**always did. "Fine, if that's what you want." He turned away again and waved back as he walked off.

I hugged my textbook to my chest and sighed. This feeling of dread that came with seeing the curling smoke of a cigarette sucked - in a word. Especially when my best friend was a chain smoker. I started walking for home, the opposite direction Kenny was walking in.

My name is Kyle Broflovski-Cartman. I am twenty-years-old, have short wavy red hair and wide green eyes. My figure is slim, and I have been told multiple time that I looked like a girl. I still wear the red-orange jacket and green ushanka I have since I was a kid, with a t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Oh yeah, there's one more thing: I'm married to my childhood rival, Eric Cartman.

I walked through the wooden front door of the house me and my husband bought six months ago when we married and stopped in the small foyer. Trembling slightly, I took another two steps forward and looked around. Okay, everything appears to be off, so he must not be home yet. Normally, if Eric was here the TV would be on and I'd hear him in the rustling around in the kitchen for a snack to eat. Knowing that, I slipped my brown boots off and continued into the living room.

The silence was eerie and heavy but welcoming. The silence meant I was truly alone in the house, something that rarely happened anymore. I didn't care where Eric was, it was just nice to be alone.

I placed my textbook on the edge of the kitchen table and grabbed a Mountain Dew out of the fridge before dropping down into the wooden seat in front of the table.

Six months. That's how long we've been married.

Six months. That's how long I've been in Hell.

Eric was the most abusive son-of-a-bitch I have ever had the misfortune of being romantically linked with. But it wasn't that way at first. When we began to date near the end of our senior year of high school, he was kind and sweet. I **wanted** to be with him forever, I **wanted**to marry him and adopt a child. I really, truly loved him, and I believed he loved me too.

When he proposed to me as a graduation gift, I couldn't have been happier.

The closer we got to the wedding date, the more "on edge" he was becoming. I didn't think anything of it, he was just yelling and screaming at everyone because of the stress of the wedding - according to him, I was the exact same way. I still believed he loved me.

It wasn't until after the wedding, during our honeymoon, that I realized that he lied all those years. He was still a vindictive asshole who hated me with every fiber of his being; he tricked me so he could always hurt me - physically, emotionally, and mentally - without having to go to the trouble of hunting me down for that pleasure.

My heart broke when he told me exactly why he married me, but it wasn't shattered. Not yet. That would come all of three weeks later when he bored the first cigarette butt into my skin, punched and kicked me, and cut my wrist with a butcher's knife.

He wanted me dead, and he wanted to be the one to do it.

The front door swung open and then slammed shut. Eric was home. Fuck.

"Well," at the sight of me, he dropped his bright red down jacket to the floor, "well, well," he smirked wildly; oh God, please let him be smirking for something else, "you're home earlier than usual. Did you finish studying?"

I'm in college in order to avoid him more, though I have to say that I really do love my major. But that's irrelevant. I rested one hand on my textbook. "No, I wanna know something."

"What is it?" Eric rested one hand under my chin to tilt my face up to look at his eyes. Shit, I always cave like this!

"Kenny wanted to know if we'd join him and Butters for dinner."

"On one condition," he said.

My eyes narrowed, knowing exactly what he wanted. "Then take that condition. You know you will anyway."

I gasped as his teeth clamped down on my throat. Not the love bite he would later claim them to be, but far worse. Eric might as well have been a goddamn cannibal, or a vampire. Oh well, this was nothing new.

He pulled me up and then shoved me on the couch. He collapsed on top of me and bit down on my throat again.

Welcome to my life.


	2. All Your Hate

"_When you are lonely/Words are holy"_

_Chapter 2: All Your Hate_

I hate the color red.

Not the tranquility or the peace it brings, or even the fact that my hair is that color, but knowing that that color runs rampant through my veins. And even that wouldn't bother me if I didn't have to see and taste it everyday.

My eyes left the bite mark still trickling blood on my arm to look at the side of Eric's sleeping face. He looked so peaceful and beautiful when he was sleeping that someone walking in wouldn't guess that only minutes ago I was viciously and mercilessly fucked by him. New bruises and welts will show up soon alongside a black eye, a few cuts have finally stopped bleeding, and my ass feels like it's on fire. I hate this, I always have.

Slowly, I sit up and spit the still lingering blood in my mouth into the plastic trash bin next to the bed. That goddamn metallic taste was still there even though the substance wasn't. Damn.

I stood and walked into the bathroom adjacent to our bedroom to clean up and wash my mouth out. The door closed and I looked into the mirror, my eye was already beginning to swell. Fuck. It's going to be fun coming up with an excuse for this one. I started the shower and stepped in.

The soft water beating down on my skin was soothing against the bruises and cuts, and I suddenly wished that it would make the pain just stop though I knew it wouldn't. Oh well, nothing new. Just the same old pain as everyday, I wish it would end though…everyone worries so much…

Oh, that reminds me! I have to go to Kenny and Butters' for dinner tonight! I'll just leave Eric asleep on the bed, he wouldn't want to go anyway, even after he took his payment.

I stepped out of shower some minutes later and peeked back into the bedroom. Eric was still sleeping. Good. With a towel wrapped around my waist, I walked into the room and over to the closet for a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans. When those were in my hand, I ran back over to the bathroom and locked the door.

In the bathroom, I could see my reflection in barely fogged mirror. I was paler than usual, nearly stark white, and across my front I could see bruises - some purple-black, newer, some yellowing, older ones that were nearly healed - cuts and gashes - most of them looked okay, but there were a few I should put bandages on - and the black and red combination of round cigarette burns. Those hurt the worst; a few that were inflicted days ago actually still hurt me, but that's mostly along my arms and back.

Unable to look at myself any longer, I pulled the t-shirt and jeans on. It was sad that I couldn't look at myself for more than maybe fifteen seconds, long enough for a damage assessment, anymore, but each bruise, each cut, each burn, was a reminder of the Hell I subjected myself to. I couldn't stand it, though I tried to a month ago.

I ended up having a meltdown driving down Main Street.

After I brushed out my hair, applied some careful makeup to hide the bruises on my neck and face, and did the rest of my tedious routine, I walked out of the bathroom. Eric was still asleep, and though I was happy for this, I couldn't help but wonder if one day he would wake up and realize how much he hurt and tortured me, and either kill himself or make up for it somehow. (Maybe he'd let me smack him around for six months so he could experience the shit I've been enduring.) But that was only wishful thinking, I knew it would never happen.

Before he could wake up, I slipped into the living room, grabbed my jacket, ushanka, wallet, and car keys, and left.

I dropped into the driver's seat of the cherry red 1980 Mustang I received as a wedding gift from my aunt and quickly drove off towards Kenny and Butters' place. The two weren't married, not yet anyway, but they damn sure acted like it. Butters was the perfect housewife, constantly switching between his normal self and another personality he invented as a child, Marjorine. Kenny loved it, the switching, he said it gave him everything he wanted in a lover - tenderness of a woman while he was still able to have the strength of a man, (Butters wasn't that strong, physically or otherwise, but Kenny knew what he meant on that aspect).

I envied Kenny and Butters, I really did. Butters had someone to accept all of himself, including his other personalities, and Kenny had someone who could forget about his past and accept and love him as he was now. The perfect relationship. Something very few people in this town can ever have.

I pulled into the driveway of the single story brick house and cut the engine. It was a nice house, in a beautiful neighborhood, and I always wondered what Kenny did for a living. (A few years ago, I used to joke with Eric about Kenny being a drug dealer since no one knew what he did and Butters was tight-lipped about it. Now, I'm not so sure that was just a joke since he doesn't get paid too much for being in the army and Butters stays at home.)

After a few more moments, the front door opened to a smiling Butters and I stepped out of the car with a smile of my own. I embraced the small blonde when he gave me a hug; he was unaware of how much it hurt me and I tried to hide the pain. It was difficult but manageable.

"Hey Kyle," Butters said excitedly, "it's been way too long since you've been over!"

I smiled a bit and chuckled. "Sorry, but I've been busy with school."

"I understand." He looked around me, obviously looking for someone. "So, where's Eric?"

"Asleep," I said quickly. "He had a rough day at work, so I told him it wasn't a big deal. I'll just get him KFC or something on the way home."

Though Butters didn't seem to believe my lie, he nodded and gently pulled at my hand for me to follow him into the house. He stopped me and gently pushed me down onto the sky blue couch. "I'll go get Kenny." He wandered off into another room.

Since I was along, I looked around like I always did. The walls were off-white, contrasting with the dark brown carpet that ran throughout the house. On a dark TV stand against the wall across from where I was sitting was a cheap black TV, (it wasn't too big, but it looked big enough to get good graphics for video games and movies, the perfect size for just the two of them). Pictures of both Kenny and Butters, graduation, and random group photos from when we were kids covered the walls with some random posters for hard rock bands - Kenny's fault, of course. The kitchen was to my immediate right and I knew from being over here so many times that the white walls matched the white linoleum floors and white wood counters and cabinets. In the center of the kitchen was an island with four bar stools around it, where we would be eating.

At the sound of dog tags jiggling together, I looked over to see a smiling, shirtless Kenny - scars riddled his pale body; he claims them to be from our childhood but he never would tell anyone, even Butters, where they came from, (we all assume his parents though) - with said dog tags hanging around his neck. I smiled in return. "Hey Kenny."

"You know," Kenny chuckled, "you can take your jacket off. We have the heater going."

I chuckled too and pulled my ushanka off so my hair could be free of the green hat. "Yeah, I guess I can." I stood up and un-zipped my jacket, stopping as I went to slide it off of me. If I took my jacket off, they'd see the bruises on my arms that Eric inflicted on me today. I left it un-zipped but on. When asked why I was leaving my jacket on after being told about the heater, I said, "I'm fine. If I get hot, I'll take it off." That was an obvious lie, I hated wearing my jacket indoors and everyone knew it, and I could tell the two blondes in front of me weren't buying it.

Kenny looked to Butters, who nodded. He walked for the kitchen, stopping only to give me a concerned look before continuing to walk. I turned my attention back to Butters when he walked up to me and pulled on the sleeve of my jacket. I pulled my arm away. "Kyle," he said a bit sadly (oh crap, nobody, with the exception of Eric, can resist Butters when he uses that tone), "please take your jacket off. We're worried."

My lips tightened into a straight line. I will not give in to Butters' tone of voice! I refuse! I looked in his sky blue eyes and saw genuine concern and worry there, and realized I was about to cave in. "I don't need you guys to worry about me."

"You're our best friend Kyle, of course we're going to! Now please take your jacket off," he practically begged.

I looked away from him and then slowly slipped my arms out of my jacket sleeves. I heard Butters gasp at the sight of the bruises and shallow cuts lining my arms - under the t-shirt sleeves, on my shoulders, were more cigarette burns; I was glad he couldn't see those - and I flinched. I hated that Butters had to be the first one other than Eric to see the bruises and I wanted to tell him what was going on, but I couldn't just let something like this spread, Eric would, literally, kill me. So when Butters called Kenny into the room, I forced myself to look at their horrified and angered - that was mostly Kenny - faces and say:

"Hey, it's not what it looks like guys, really." I put on a false reassuring smile. "I'm really clumsy, that's all."

Kenny's eyes narrowed. "Bullshit." I flinched again. "I'd been fearing this for a few months now, Butters too, and I really hate to be right when it comes to this shit. Kyle," he grabbed my chin and made me look into his eyes when I looked away, "I know this sucks and it hurts, not just physically either, and godammit, I **hate** that you have to endure it! Just say the word and we'll call the police on Cartman's fat ass!"

That was all I ever wanted to hear from someone! Telling me that'd be free of Eric forever! It would be a dream come true! But I still said, "I told you, I'm clumsy."

"Again, bullshit. Clumsy people don't wear makeup to try and cover what happened to them."

My eyes widened. He could see the makeup? Shit. "Kenny," I breathed out, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. He'd caught this perverse play in the middle of the climax and I was happy him and Butters were willing to pull me from the cast, but I forced the tears back and pulled my head away from Kenny's hand. As much as I hated myself right now, I can't escape the play until I see the ending. "It's not that!"

"It's not **what** Kyle?"

"It's not abuse!" I lied. "Eric isn't abusing me!" I snatched my jacket from Butters' hands and pulled it back on as I moved for the door. "Thanks for the dinner offer, but I think I'll just have KFC with my husband." I slammed the door behind me and dropped back into the driver's seat of the Mustang, the door of which I shut with far more force than necessary.

Quickly, I pulled out of the driveway and sped down the road towards Kentucky Fried Chicken. Without me allowing it, tears began flooding my eyes, I quickly wiped them away so I could see where I was going. Why the hell did I defend him? If he did this shit when we were younger, high school even, I would've said something a long time ago. Have things changed because we're married? Do I really think things will resolve itself? Dammit, what the fuck is wrong with me?

I whipped the Mustang into the KFC parking lot and put it into park after a sloppy parking job next to a black Blazer. "Godammit!" I wiped more tears from my eyes angrily. "Stop crying, this your own fault!" Even though I said that, a sob escaped me and I hit the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. "Godammit! **Godammit**!" I rested my forehead against the cold steering wheel and began to bawl with my hands tight around the wheel. I'm such a moron. Why did I do that? Why did I defend that bastard? What's wrong with me?

I don't know how much later it was, but there was a light knock at the window and a voice asking through the glass, "Dude, are you okay in there?"

I wiped my eyes and face and looked over at the man. "Yeah, I'm…fine…" My eyes widened at the familiar jet black hair and blue-black eyes of the man in the dark brown jacket. "Stan?"


	3. Farther Away

"_I run to you/Call out your name/I see you there/Farther away"_

_Chapter 3: Farther Away_

Stanley Marsh. Even after all this time, I still remember that name and those blue-black eyes that reminded me of a mix between a ripened blueberry and a ripened blackberry.

It was in the seventh grade, eight years ago, when he left to live with his dad in North Park. Though me and him hadn't been talking much, if at all, at that time, I was still sad that he hadn't given me any contact information, more so when the wedding came - with his mom and sister in Middle Park, I had no way of contacting them for the information either.

I'd thought of him everyday since he moved away–well, maybe not so much the past six months with my mind on ways to avoid getting smacked around by Eric, but he did cross through my thoughts. Remembering when we were children and super best friends always made me incredibly happy, and lately I've needed that - maybe that's why I've been around Kenny more often, he did trigger the memories since he hadn't changed much.

Stan's own eyes widened when I said his name. "Kyle?" He stepped back so I could open the door of the Mustang and step out - I'm like a foot shorter than him; damn. A wide smiled crossed his face suddenly and he gave me a tight hug. Ow! "Holy shit dude! It's been **way** too long!"

Though my entire upper body was screaming in pain when he released me, I returned the exuberant smile. I really was happy to see him regardless of the pain. "Eight years."

"Really? That long? Damn! I'm sorry I didn't visit!"

I chuckled. "No, it's fine. We…weren't really that close when you left anyway…"

"Maybe not, but we were friends for years," he smiled again, "I should've came back at least once. Plus, I was just in North Park."

"Oh yeah, when'd you get back? I mean, is this just a visit?" I hope not.

Stan shook his head. "No, not a visit. I moved back a few weeks ago into an apartment nearby, and I transferred to work at the KFC here too. Seeing as I worked at the one in North Park for four years, it wasn't too hard to get over here."

"I see. Well," I shut the door of the car and locked it, "I need to get dinner."

"Dude," Stan slung an arm around my shoulders like he used to do when we would admire something together when we were kids, "seriously, this is a beautiful car. Where did you get the money for this?"

I laughed; my shoulders were killing me. "It was a wedding gift from my aunt."

"Wedding gift?" He looked at me with surprise. "You're married?"

I lifted my left hand and showed him the matching silver band on my left ring finger. "Six months now."

"Whoa!" He laughed and turned us with his arm still around my shoulders so we could walk into the restaurant together. "Congratulations dude! I wish I could've been at the wedding!"

I chuckled humorlessly. No, you don't Stan. You either would've freaked out because I married Eric, or because I married a guy. "I wish you could've been there too, but I didn't know how to contact you."

"Yeah," he scratched absently at his chin, "sorry about that."

"It's okay."

He released me as we stood in line for the register and smiled once again. He seemed really excited to see me, though I couldn't say anything, I was just as excited to see him. "So, is this your kinda fast food night for you and your wife?"

"Uh…" I turned light red. "Not my wife…my husband." I waited for the disgusted yelling and screaming and for him to storm off out of my life for what seemed like forever, but it never came. I looked at Stan in time to see him shrug and say:

"As long as you're happy," he said as if reading my thoughts, "why should I judge your marriage? Besides, I have no room to say anything about you being gay." He laughed again.

He has no room to say anything? Did that mean he was gay too? I smiled the first genuine smile I had in months. "You always were the best, dude."

Stan laughed louder. "Hell yeah!" He moved his arms to link his head behind his head. "So who're you married to?"

I opened my mouth to tell him but the cashier was open so I stepped over to him. "Can I get a twelve-piece extra crispy bucket with gravy and fries, and a medium popcorn chicken meal?"

As the cashier was ringing up my order, Stan leaned against the counter and looked at me with one eyebrow raised. "Extra crispy, twelve-piece? That sounds like something Cartman would eat."

He remembered Eric? Well, can't say I blame him, that fat ass is hard to forget. I nodded. "It is. The popcorn chicken meal is for me."

"Wait a second! Is Cartman your husband?"

My face began burning bright red again. That was the normal reaction when someone I hadn't seen for years suddenly found that information out. "Well…yeah."

"Dude!"

"What?"

"You guys used to hate each other!"

I turned and leaned back against the counter with my arms crossed over my chest. "Well, things change. We've been together since our senior year of high school and we were married six months ago." Six months of Hell, I reminded myself once again.

Stan sighed knowingly and nodded. "Well, as long as you're happy."

I didn't say anything to that, just stared at the tiled floor of KFC. I'm not happy, and some days I hated the fact that I could hide it so damn well. I wanted nothing more than to be happy…with someone else, someone I **could** be happy with. That thought brought the question of why I rejected Kenny and Butters' help back into the forefront of my mind. I realized now that I had been stupid, and the only reason I said what I did was because of habit. Too many times had Eric threatened me with a pain-filled, torturous death if I told anyone about the abuse. I guess the thought of dying scared me more than the promise of being beaten and treated like a third-rate whore everyday, and I wasn't exactly sure why.

A single tear slipped down my cheek. Shit. I quickly wiped it away, but the look on Stan's face I could see from the corner of my told me he saw it. I could only hope he wouldn't say anything about it.

"Here you go Kyle," a woman said happily behind me, "hope you and Eric enjoy it."

I grabbed the two bags of food and smiled back at her. "Thanks Julie, we will." I turned and walked back out to the Mustang with Stan, who dropped into the passenger's seat when I asked him if he wanted to come over. I handed him the two bags and started the car.

As I pulled out of the parking space, Stan asked, "So, what was with the random tear inside? You know, after I said 'as long as you're happy?'"

My face and heart dropped at his question. I guess it was to be expected though. "Stan," I slowly stopped the car at a stop sign and looked over at him seriously, "I'm not happy. I hate being married to Eric…and I haven't told anyone this, except for you. Though I'm sure Kenny and Butters know." Of course they know, they know about the abuse so they must realize I'm unhappy.

His eyes filled with concern. "You're not? Why?"

I looked forward out of the windshield again. My hands tightened on the wheel, turning my knuckles white. "I can't tell you."

"Why can't you tell me?"

Before the person behind me could honk, I drove the car forward and pulled it into the driveway. "I just can't…I can't tell anyone. And please, **please** don't bring up this conversation in front of Eric."

"I wasn't going to, but now I'm worried. Is something going on?"

"…No…"

"Kyle…"

"Nothing's going on Stan!" I cut the engine and threw the door open. When he stepped out of the passenger's side, I gave him an apologetic look. "Just please don't say anything. I'm begging you."

Stan sighed and then nodded. "Fine. But Kyle, you're worrying me."

I shook my head. "Don't. Just come inside."

He moved to walk around the front of the car towards the front door and then stopped beside Eric's car. "Holy shit!" Mouth gaping, he began to inspect the car. "Is this a sixty-eight Firebird?"

I laughed and crossed my arms over my chest again. Stan was right, Eric's car was a candy red 1968 Firebird, a classic. "It is. Another wedding gift from my aunt."

"Damn dude!"

I laughed a bit more and then grabbed onto Stan's jacket sleeve to pull him behind me. "Come on, I'm sure Eric's getting hungry."

"Does he still get mad when he's hungry?"

"All the time."

This time Stan laughed. "He hadn't changed much, has he?"

I stopped as I was unlocking the door and glanced back at him. "He really hasn't." Before Stan could say anything about that, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. "Hello? Eric, you awake?" I walked over to the kitchen to find him sitting where I had earlier and looking very pissed that I didn't have food in my hands.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He yelled, (not with Stan here, not with Stan here!). "Did you 'forget' to pick my food up, bitch?"

"Eric–" I took a step back as he sharply stood and stepped towards me with his hand raised to strike. "Wait!"

"Hey!" Stan yelled from beside me, partially hidden behind a wall, where he couldn't have been seen from where Eric sitting. My husband froze at the sound of Stan's voice. "Here's your KFC fat ass! Now what are you going to do to Kyle?"

Eric's eyes widened slightly and he slowly lowered his hand. "Marsh?"

Stan nodded once sharply. He looked angry. "Yeah." He held out the bag with the chicken bucket in it. "Take it. And why was your hand raised?"

Eric snatched the bag from Stan's hand and smoothly said, "It's a game we play called 'scare the spouse.' It's quite fun."

When I received a quick demeaning glare from him, I nodded and muttered unwillingly, "It is."

From the corner of my eye, I could barely see Stan's eyes narrow. He didn't believe it, and I couldn't say I blamed him, Eric's accuse sucked. He normally came up with a half-decent accuse, I never knew him to be bad with on-the-spot accuses, this was a first. I had to admit I took a bit of pleasure out of knowing that he was beating himself up inside for that one.

Grumbling, Eric took his food out into the living room so he could eat while watching TV. I gestured with my head to the back door so me and Stan could sit outside so as not to disturb him; he gets mad when he can't hear the TV over talking.

Me and Stan sat down on the outdoor couch in front of a fire pit Eric bought at Walmart. I flipped a switch and it turned on, providing instant heat against the cold. I grabbed my meal out of the KFC bag, but before I could start eating, Stan asked:

"Kyle, is he abusing you?"

I froze. He figured it out already? Well, I mean I guess Eric raising his hand to slap me was a good enough indicator, but most people just bought his accuses, (but, again, he didn't come up with a good one this time). "What gave you that idea?" I popped a piece of the popcorn chicken in my mouth. Still as good as ever.

"Everything you told me about being unhappy married to him, the tear that fell in KFC, the fact that you looked like you were having a meltdown in the parking lot, and because he raised his hand to hit you." He scoffed. "A game my ass."

I swallowed another piece of chicken and said lowly, "Sometimes he slaps me…but only if I deserve it." Okay, so it was a half-lie, but I was terrified of saying anything close to a full admittance with Eric in the house.

I glanced over to see Stan's hand clenched into fists in his lap. "'Deserve it?' How could you ever deserve to get hit, for **anything**, by the man you married?"

I glanced back at the house. Dammit Stan, keep your voice down! "Well…maybe there are some things," I muttered. Suddenly I was in Stan's arms and he was holding me tight, unknowingly hurting me again. "Stan?"

"There's absolutely no reason for it, and I know you know this. So why would you even think something like that?"

I relaxed against his chest; he felt so warm, so…wonderful. It was different than the few times Eric held me, there was no hate or forcing it, just genuine concern…and maybe something more, but I wasn't sure. "I don't… Stan, we really can't talk about something like this here."

He sighed. "Fine." He released me and I felt like pouting, I wanted the warmth to come back and the fire pit, as hot as it was, just couldn't do that. "You should come over to my apartment tomorrow. We can talk about it there."

I went to nod, but stopped. No, I didn't want to talk about it at all, even with Stan. I was afraid more than anything. "No."

"No?"

"Sorry Stan, but I just…there's nothing to talk about."

"That's a lie."

I sent a glare at him to tell him to drop the subject. "Just don't worry about it!"

After a few minutes of silent glaring between the two of us, Stan finally sighed. "Things around here have changed so much. If we're not gonna talk about your marriage, then maybe we can catch up and you can fill me in on what I've missed."

My eyes softened and I smiled at him. "Okay. Eric works all day tomorrow, so we can do whatever."

He returned the smile. "Great! I'll pick you up around eleven. Just look for a dark blue crotch rocket."

"Okay." I stood up with him and walked over to the gate of the fence. "Oh, do you want me to drive you home?"

"Nah," he slipped out of the gate, "I can walk. Besides, exercise is good for the body." He lifted one hand into the air as he walked away in a farewell.

I just stared at his back as he walked down the driveway towards the road. What was this I was feeling? My heart was pounding hard against my ribcage and I could barely breathe, but it wasn't painful and I wasn't scared. It was a good feeling, like I had just gulped down a cup of warm coffee and it was filling my entire body with its heat. I hadn't felt like this since before me and Eric were married. Could it be that I…?


	4. The Feel Good Drag

"'_I'm here for you,' she said/And we can stay for a while/My boyfriend's gone/We can just pretend"_

_Chapter 4: The Feel Good Drag_

…_10:30 a.m._…

Slowly I opened my eyes to the smallest bit of sunlight peeking through the blinds over the window in me and Eric's bedroom and groaned. Granted, I was glad I managed to sleep through the screeching of Eric's alarm clock at six this morning, but it was almost as unpleasant to be woken up by sunlight in my face.

Speaking of time, I wonder what time it is now…? I rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock that looked like it jumped straight out of the nineties. Ten-thirty. Stan will be here soon.

With a wide smile, I leapt out of bed and went over to the dresser. It's been so long since I've had anything to be excited about during the day. At first, college was exciting: I could get away from Eric while doing something I never had before. But between lack of sleep from studying and the intense pain that made it hard to concentrate, that quickly became less and less exciting. And as much as I love Kenny and Butters, it was hard to get excited about seeing them, especially when they were together. I guess I just hated knowing that they have the kind of relationship I had thought I'd get out of Eric. (This by no means, means that I hate **them**, just the situation.)

I pulled a black turtleneck and some dark jeans out of the closet and pulled them on - I took a shower last night knowing I'd probably sleep a bit late - trying to ignore the pain of new bruises around my waist as I buttoned the jeans. After nearly making the mistake of hitting me in front of Stan yesterday, Eric was more angry than usual. Instead of slapping me like he was originally going to do, he used a plastic bat on me - he said he didn't use a wooden or metal one so that I wouldn't die - and then raped me. As much as I wanted to though, I didn't cry. It would've just brought either another beating or screaming about how pathetically weak I was, and how I shouldn't cry when I allow it to happen in the first place.

So, no crying, just a shower and sleep.

It was beyond hard to do, but I forced myself to do it just to avoid getting hurt any more than I already was. Oh well, just more "payment" for nearly having the secret revealed.

As I was brushing my teeth, there was a knock at the door. I looked at the clock as I walked for the door. Ten-forty-five. He was early. I answered the door to a smiling Stan in a black leather jacket and tight blue jeans. Damn, it was a nice sight! I stood aside for him to come in and spit on the sidewalk in front of the door as he came in. "You're fifteen minutes early."

Stan shrugged. "I said **around** eleven, not exactly eleven."

I chuckled and moved for the bathroom again. "I guess you did." In the bathroom, I finished brushing my teeth and grabbed my hairbrush. "So what're we doing today?"

"Well, I was thinking we could grab some lunch and then rent a couple of b-rate movies to watch." A wide grin broke out across his face. "If you wanted to anyway."

I returned the grin. "Sounds like fun. I haven't watched any b-rate movies in a long time." I really haven't. I think the last time I did was, maybe, my bachelor party. Kenny rented one and brought quite a few from him and Butters' place; everyone sat there and got drunk as we watched them, so I don't really remember them all too well.

"Great!" When I put my brush down, Stan asked seriously, "So, did anything happen between you and Cartman after I left?"

I flinched slightly at the too fresh memory. The excruciating pain of having that plastic bat smack into my abdomen, hips, and chest over and over and over again. The unclean and screwed up feeling of having Eric slam into me and then release himself in my ass. The urge to cry rose again at the thought, but I quickly shoved it down. The last thing I needed to do was cry, it would screw up the day before it even began. My eyes looked with Stan's. "No, nothing happened."

Stan sighed, though I couldn't tell if it was a relieved sigh or not. "That's good then." He smiled slightly. "Well, shall we go?"

I smiled too and nodded. "Yeah!" I happily followed him out to his dark blue crotch rocket, pausing only to lock the door. "Dude, this is nice!"

He chuckled and handed me a black helmet that matched his own. "It is, but not nearly as nice as you and Cartman's cars. I don't think I'll ever top refurbished classics."

"Nope," I laughed, "you never will!"

"Hey!"

"You said it, I just agreed." I pulled the helmet on over my head and strapped it in place. When Stan did the same and sat down on the bike, I swung my leg over the small bike and wrapped my arms around him.

"Hang on," he said through the helmet before starting up the engine.

My arms tightened around him. I'd never even ridden on a motorcycle, let alone a crotch rocket, though all it was was a smaller, faster version of a motorcycle. Right? Well, regardless, the rush I felt as he pulled from the driveway and started going seventy down the road was something I'll never forget.

Speeding so fast down the road that the houses I saw through the helmet's visor looked like blurs, feeling the wind whip my shirt all around my torso, being so close to Stan. Oh God, that was the best part! Even through my turtleneck, his leather jacket, and the t-shirt I was sure was underneath, I could feel the same warmth I did yesterday, and it was wonderful. Again, my arms tightened around him a bit and I rested my head against his back. So close to Stan, so close to what felt like real love, to what I had always wanted.

Suddenly, Stan hit the brake and pulled the crotch rocket to the side, skidding to a stop in a parking space near the entrance of Sizzler. My heart was in my throat at the sudden movement and halt. Holy shit! What was he thinking?

Stan pulled off his helmet and laughed. "Hey Kyle, you can let me go now."

Slowly, I removed my arms from around his upper body and pulled the helmet off of my head. He put the kick stand into place as I got off of the crotch rocket and stumbled a bit for balance. "What the hell was that?" I demanded.

"A stop," he said simply. He got off of the bike with a chuckle.

"Are you **insane**? You could've killed us, you crazy fuck!"

This time he full on laughed. Was it really that funny that he scared the living shit out of me? I turned red as he said, "I know what I'm doing, I've been driving these things for years. Don't worry so much, just have fun."

I sighed. "Yeah, you're right…" I handed him the helmet when he opened up the seat and threw both into the compartment beneath it. I looked up at the Sizzler sign and smiled again. "We haven't been here together in years."

"I know," he smiled too; "it's been way too long. Well," he hooked his arm into mine and pulled me towards the door of the restaurant, "let's go enjoy our bro date!"

"Bro date?" I had to raise an eyebrow at that. I thought it was called a friend date. Where the hell did "bro date" come from?

"Yeah, a 'date' between two really close guy friends, bros." He looked at the hostess at the front of the restaurant. "Two."

I sighed as he released me so we could sit down at our table. When the waitress went to get our drinks, I sighed. "Is that 'bro' thing something you learned in North Park, because I have **never** heard that before…?"

He laughed again. "It was actually." He waited a moment as we were given our drinks and the waitress left us so we could look at the menu.

While we looked over the menu, I filled him in on everything he'd missed. Kenny and Butters' engagement, Wendy, Bebe, and Clyde becoming a polyamorous love, Token moving away, Craig and Tweek's rocky relationship, Damien returning, and then Damien and Pip getting together. The drugstore closed, replaced by a health store, ("GNC, I think," I said with a shrug). Three years ago, some idiot played a prank on the town, causing everyone to think that the thing from the movie, _Trick r' Treat _was real, nearly destroying the town once again. Dr. Mafesto died, ending genetic research in the town, ("Everyone was disappointed about that. He always made things interesting around here.").

"So," Stan said with a tone of astonishment when I finished, "a lot really has changed since I left."

"Well, yeah. You've been gone for eight years," I said.

He nodded. "It's to be expected, I guess."

We stopped our conversation long enough to order our food and hand the menus over to the waitress before continuing along. I took a sip of my Coke and asked, "What've you been up to since you left?"

"Not much." He shrugged. "I made a few good friends in North Park, but no one I'm dying to see again. My dad's still as crazy as ever, just last month he tried to go the rock star path again. That's when I decided I needed to get away from him; I was living in my own apartment too, and come back here for a bit. To be honest, I was only planning on being here for six months, but now," he chuckled, "I think I'll stay for a while longer."

He's going to stay longer? Did he decide that after re-meeting me? I hoped so, that would be amazing! I smiled. "That's great Stan!"

"I thought so." He mirrored my smile.

I waited another minute when our food was given to us before I asked, "So, were you still a big time jock there too?"

"You know it! M.V.P. football player all four years of high school!"

"Damn!" That really was impressive. Though I guess it's not that much of a surprise, he always was a great football player. "So, I guess you've had a lot of girlfriends because of that?"

Stan ate a fry and shook his head. "Nope. Not a single one since Wendy."

"Really?"

"Really. At first, it was because not a single girl caught my eye, and then I thought that's what it was in high school too - they lined up for me and were highly disappointed when I didn't pick them."

"So…?"

He gave me a mischievous grin and I blushed again. He looked so damn sexy like that! I could barely stand it! (Godammit, stop having thoughts like this! You're married Kyle, get a hold of yourself!) "Sophomore year was when I realized that I liked the attention I was getting from the guys more than the girls and decided to experiment." I realized it then, what he was trying to say in the KFC. "I'm gay, dude. So, no, no girlfriends."

"I see." I poked at what was left of my burger and asked, "Do you…have a boyfriend?"

"No." He ate another fry. "I dated one guy for nearly a year, but we broke up a few months ago when he fell in love with someone else."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Not too sorry though. I was actually really happy to hear that he was single, it made the thoughts that kept flooding my mind seem less terrible. (And there were **a lot** of them!)

Stan shrugged. "It wasn't that big of a deal. I don't think I was really in love with him, just infatuated."

"Oh."

Infatuation. I wondered if that was what I felt for Eric all that time leading up to the wedding. Probably not seeing how heartbroken I was when the abuse started. Then again, anybody would feel heartbroken and betrayed when something like that would start up. So, maybe it was, but then again maybe I really was in love. Ugh… I don't know…!

We continued chatting for a while longer as we finished our meals and paid the bill. Outside, we pulled the helmets back on and rode off towards the video store for a couple of movies. Once we got those, which Stan stashed in the crotch rocket's compartment while we rode, we went back to his apartment.

I grabbed the videos from the compartment and dropped my helmet in to replace them. "Stan," I sighed, "you really need to stop doing the skid stop. It scares the hell outta me."

He laughed again and laced his fingers behind his head. (Damn him.) "How can I when you look so damn cute scolding me about it?"

I turned bright red. Cute? Me? Did he really just say that? "What was that?" I squeaked out.

He chuckled and turned for the apartment door he parked the crotch rocket in front of. "Oh, nothing."

I sighed deeply. Nothing my pale white ass. I had a feeling he enjoyed seeing me blush and nearly turn to goop when he said things like I'm cute, or how I almost melt when he holds me or when we're riding on his crotch rocket. Yeah, he probably somehow gets off knowing that. Damn him.

"Dude," Stan was halfway in the door, "you gonna come inside, or are you gonna stand there all day staring off into space?"

I turned red again. Dammit, I hate that he can make blood rush to my face so easily. I'm like a fucking love-struck schoolgirl, and this is the first time in eight years that I've seen him! "Yeah, I'm coming." I walked up to the door and inside of the apartment.

Stan grabbed the DVDs from my hand and walked over to the TV as I sat down on the couch with my legs folded underneath me. There were boxes still thrown around the living room, making it more than obvious that he was still getting situated from the move. Knowing him, it would probably take a few more days for him to clear out the empty boxes and a bit longer than that to unload and dispose of the other boxes. Maybe I should help him. I'm sure he'd be grateful for the help, plus it would give me another excuse not to be at home with Eric.

He plopped down on the couch next to me and placed one arm around my shoulders as the main menu for _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ appeared on the screen. The room was dark as he clicked the play button on the DVD remote, but I was sure he knew my face was burning red again. I moved so that I was leaning against him, almost cuddling into his side underneath his arm. I loved sitting like this against him, it was so relaxing and wonderful. Once again, the warm feeling I got when we had our arms around each other filled me up. Simply amazing.

I started laughing loudly as Stan sang along with one of the first songs, _"Dammit Janet."_ He was so tone deaf that it made the song absolutely awful, but the fact that he clearly knew it and was using that made it hilarious. Still laughing, I wiped a tear from my eye and glanced up at him. Almost immediately, I stopped laughing.

He looked beautiful. His face was sharply angled, every bit of it signaling the man that he'd become. Even his lips, kind of thin and full - it was hard to tell with only the light of the movie - added to his beauty. I couldn't resist him.

While he was still singing, I reached up and gently grabbed the side of his face to turn him to me. Before he could ask me what I was doing, I connected our lips in a chaste kiss. And then, time stopped.


	5. Mistress

"_Living inside a nightmare/From which I just cannot awaken"_

_Chapter 5: Mistress_

Electricity and fire. That's what kissing Stan felt like. My heart was pounding in my ears, heat filled my body from head to toe, and it felt like something was pulsing through me. God, it felt absolutely wonderful! Like nothing I had ever felt before!

My tongue flicked Stan's bottom lip, trying to gain access to his mouth, but he grabbed my shoulders and pulled away from me. His eyes were wide and filled with shock. He obviously hadn't expected that kiss, but I didn't see anything in his eyes or posture that said he hated it. Why did he stop me?

"Stan," I breathed. I dove in for another kiss.

He grabbed my chin, stopping me. "Kyle, what're you doing? I know you said you're unhappy, but that isn't an excuse for what you're trying to do."

"But Stan, I…" The hand resting against Stan's chest tightened around part of his bright blue t-shirt. "I've never…wanted someone like I want you."

He bit his bottom lip and his eyes fell to the hand gripping his shirt. "Neither have I, but…fuck Kyle, I want you too, but you're married. We can't just do this, no matter which of us instigates it. I don't want you to hate yourself later, plus what if Cartman–"

"He won't find out!" I kissed Stan's jaw. "Please," I begged before moving to his neck.

I felt him shudder beneath me as I kissed his neck, my teeth grazing his flesh. A second later, I was on my back and his lips were against mine again, this time roughly. "Godammit," he moaned. He pulled at the neck of my turtleneck shirt and bit down on my throat.

I yelped when he bit me, but unlike when Eric bit me, I didn't mind it. He didn't go to break the skin, to taste my blood, just to leave a slight love mark. A second later, his lips found mine again and his tongue snaked into my mouth. I moaned into his mouth and wrapped my arms around him and hold him close to me. More, I wanted more.

My hips slid up against his, rubbing against him, physically begging him to take me for his own. His hands slid down my front and stopped at the hem of my shirt, his fingers teased my flesh above the button of my jeans and I moaned again.

Stan released a moan of his own after I did and reached up my shirt, his hand slid over to my side, over a large, fresh gash on my side that was covered in bruises from the bat last night. Unaware that the gash was there, he dug his nails in, opening the scab and causing me the same awful pain I felt when the cut was first made.

I screamed and pulled away from Stan with one hand gripping my side. Son-of-a-bitch! That fucking **hurts**! With my teeth grinding together, I flipped onto my side with my hand directly against the re-opened wound. Crap, I'm bleeding.

"Kyle," Stan nearly yelled, "are you okay? What's wrong?"

"It…" I tried to keep the pained strain out of my voice, but I couldn't, it was far too difficult. I glanced up at him. "It's nothing. I'm fine." Before he could stop me or ask me anymore questions, I slipped out from underneath him and made my way for the door. I needed to get a bandage on the gash, it needed to stop bleeding before it got too bad. "I just remembered something, I…I need to get home." I was limping and I knew it, but I couldn't stop it. I wish I could, I could feel Stan's worried eyes on my back.

"Bullshit!" Stan grabbed my arm and yanked it out of my shirt; it was covered in blood from the gash. "Why's your hand covered in blood?"

"It's nothing!" I screamed as I pulled my hand away. My side was crying blood; I could feel it trickling down my side and begin to stain the top of my jeans. I had to leave before he could see it. I sharply turned for the door and went to run, but Stan caught my arm again. Dammit! "Let me go!"

"No Kyle! Tell me what's going on! What's **really** going on! Blood just doesn't appear on your hand for no reason!"

I ground my teeth together and yelled something I would later realize I shouldn't have, "It's because you hurt me Stan! **You're** the reason I'm bleeding!"

Though it was the worst lie I'd ever uttered, it seemed to strike something in him, he released my arm. I could sense something coming off of him, disappointment or hurt maybe, I couldn't tell though. I hated that he was feeling that way, I hated that I blamed him for something Eric caused, but I couldn't take it back. I wouldn't…because I couldn't tell him what really caused it and what was going on.

I'm sorry, Stan. I stepped forward and opened the door. "I'll just walk home. It's good for body after all." I stepped outside and shut the door behind me before running for the street and for home.

What have I done? What's wrong with me? I can't believe I just yelled at him! I…I love him, and I pretty much told him I didn't and it's his fault I'm in pain right now! Godammit! God damn **me**!

I slowed to a walk and began panting. I hadn't run far, but my side was bleeding worse now and it was making it hard to breathe. I pressed my hand back to it through my now sticky shirt and ground my teeth together in pain. Shit. I wasn't sure how much longer I could go for, but I think I'm close to the house. That's good.

I limped along the sidewalk towards the house trying like hell not to blackout from the pain. Just a bit farther until home, then I can bandage my side and pass out. I'll need to after this.

"Kyle!" I looked back and saw Stan slowly pulling up next to me on his crotch rocket. He pulled his helmet off.

"What'd you want Stan?" I yelled at him as if I was still mad at him. I didn't want to face him after what I said to him. It wasn't something I think I could handle right now.

His eyes narrowed. "Look, I don't know what's going on, and it doesn't look like you're going to tell me. I'm not sure I'm okay with that, but I can't control what you say and what you don't say." He held his hand out to me. "I'm not just gonna let you walk home like that, you're limping really bad and the entire left side of your pant leg is stained." I glanced down and saw he was right. Shit. Maybe I shouldn't have run all that way. "Put the helmet on and hang on. I'll take you home."

I looked at the helmet for a moment and then grabbed it. "You know, we're not far away, I could walk." Regardless, I pulled the helmet on and sat on the back of the crotch rocket.

"Not like that you're not." He revved the engine and then took off the few miles to me and Eric's house. He slowly stopped in the driveway and put the kickstand down before helping me off of the bike.

I pulled the helmet off and placed it on the seat of the crotch rocket. I went to walk towards the door to go inside, but a wave of dizziness hit me and I fell over into Stan's chest, he managed to keep his balance and wrap his arms around me to hold me up. Even though it was just because I fell over, I felt the same wave of warmth pass through me again. Couldn't we just stay like this? I don't even care that my side is bleeding and hurts like a bitch; I just wanted to stay in Stan's arms forever.

"Kyle, are you okay?" Stan yelled in genuine concern.

"Mm-hmm," I moaned. I gripped onto the front of his leather jacket and buried my face into it. He smelled like Axe, or maybe Tag, I couldn't tell but I didn't care all too much. I just know he smelled lovely.

Stan sighed as I heard a car pull into the driveway. Crap. I pushed away from Stan and forced myself to stay balanced as I turned to look at the Firebird stopping next to my car. What was Eric doing home already? I thought he worked late today! This isn't good, it isn't good at all! I hoped Eric didn't care that I was in Stan's arms when he saw I was bleeding. Hopefully he'd understand that I got dizzy and fell, I don't know if I could handle a beating today.

Eric stepped out of his car and slammed the door shut. He never did that since the car was vintage, he was pissed off. He stomped towards us and demanded, "What was it I saw just now?"

"Keep your pants on fat ass. Kyle got hurt, he's bleeding, and he got dizzy and fell over," Stan said defensively. "I was helping him to the door."

Concern suddenly filled Eric's eyes and I glanced back over at Stan to see a degree of shock on his face. Eric had him fooled, he was still a master of lies - I should know - people fell for his trickery all the time. I was distraught to see Stan falling for it though; he rarely did when we were kids. I looked back to Eric in time for him to pick me up bridal style. I yelped and then clutched onto the fabric of his work shirt. Normally I'd fight him but I hadn't been expecting it.

"Go home," Eric held my tight against him, his fingers digging into me where he knew bruises were, "I'll help him from here."

"Uh…okay." Stan's eyes locked with mine for a brief second and I saw the confusion there. I couldn't blame him for not seeing it though, he genuinely didn't understand because he didn't know about the abuse. I can't blame him for something I kept my mouth shut about.

Eric turned and walked for the door as Stan went back to his crotch rocket. I looked back over Eric's shoulder and saw my raven-haired crush pull out of the driveway. I didn't want him to leave; I didn't want to be alone with Eric. I should've told him, I shouldn't have just left like that. There has to be something wrong with me. Maybe Eric still has me fucking brainwashed, that wouldn't be a stretch I guess.

Inside, Eric dropped me onto the couch and ignored the scream I let out as he asked, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"My side split open of its own accord," I said between my teeth. Dropping me on the couch was one of the worst things to do for not only my side but other cuts and bruises as well.

"That shit just doesn't happen." His fist slammed into my open side and I screamed. "What really happened?" He yelled.

"I told you!"

"You're lying!" He punched my side again, earning another scream alongside a pained cough. I felt like I was about to pass out again, this wasn't good. "What **really** happened? Did you try to fuck him, you whore?" He hit me again. "You **slut**!"

I screamed in pain between sobs of denial that I had tried to have sex with Stan - as true as it was. But the blows just kept coming. Punch after punch, all concentrated on or near the split gash on my side. Tears were rolling down my face as the darkness teased the edges of my eyes. I was about to blackout.

Desperate for help, I did something I never did, I grabbed the hem of Eric's shirt and sobbed out, "E-Eric, please help me! I've lost a-a lot of blood! **Please**!"

Instead of helping me, he did what I expected him to and smacked my hand away before slapping me across my face. His nails dug into my skin, leaving four shallow cuts along my cheek. "Don't touch me you stupid fuck!"

Stan, help me, please, Stan. I need you here. One last sob escaped me before he kicked me in the stomach and the black that had been teasing me finally conquered my vision.


	6. Life is Beautiful

"_You can't learn to tell the truth/Until you learn to lie"_

_Chapter 6: Life is Beautiful_

I was still on the couch in my bloodstained turtleneck and blue jeans when I woke up. The pain in my side was now just a dull ache, something I could easily ignore and could cure with a couple of Tylenol. I sat up and lifted up my shirt to look at my side, from what I could tell, the bleeding had stopped sometime while I was out. At least there was that.

As I stood, I looked at the digital clock on the wall near the kitchen. Seven in the morning. At least Eric will be at work for most of the day.

I turned and walked over into our bathroom to take a shower and clean off the blood. In the bathroom I looked in the mirror and saw the four horizontal shallow cuts across my left cheek from where Eric's nail dug yesterday. Dried blood stained the side of my face and matted some of my hair down; it was probably on the couch cushion too. Well, that was something I'd have to clean today, or I could just flip it over. Eric would never know the difference.

Sighing in both frustration and desperation, I dug my cell phone out of my right pocket and placed it on the ceramic sink counter - guess I should be glad I put it in my right pocket - in time for it to vibrate, notifying me of a text message. I picked it up again, it was from Butters. I clicked read.

_Hey Kyle, me and Ken just ran into Stan at the store. He told us what happened yesterday with your side bleeding. Are you okay?_

_3 Butters_

I sighed again. I didn't want them to know about that, but I couldn't really control what Stan said when I wasn't around. I clicked reply.

_Yeah Butters, I'm fine. It was my fault really; it was a healing wound that I probably should've been wearing a bandage over. I just strained myself too much I guess. Hehe…_

_~Kyle~_

When the message sent, I set my phone down again and stripped my clothes off. They all went into a small pile next to the hamper so I'd remember to throw them in the washer when I got out of the shower. By the time I started the shower up, my phone vibrated again. I hit read.

_If you're sure… Oh, hey, Stan's coming over for brunch! He offered to pick you up if you wanna come over! ^_^_

_3 Butters_

I smiled a bit at that. I think Stan wanted to check up on me more than anything else and who was I to deny him that…? I clicked reply.

_^_^ That sounds great! Tell Stan I'll leave the front door unlocked for him if he gets here before I'm done with my shower._

_~Kyle~_

I clicked send and then grabbed a towel to wrap around waist before moving back out into the house itself. I unlocked the front door and then darted for the bathroom. I don't know why I did that, but I always had.

I clicked read when I saw I had gotten a text. It was just Butters saying "okay." I slid my cell phone shut and put the towel around my waist on the silver towel rack next to the shower before stepping into the warm water.

It felt as good as ever, regardless of the stinging on my side and face. It was probably that promise of cleaning away my dried, sticky blood that allowed me to ignore the slight pain and be happy for it at all.

Okay, first things first! I grabbed a washcloth and doused it in the lavender liquid soap so that I could use it scrub away all of the dried blood. It hurt like hell when I got from my leg and hip to the gash on my side and then from my cheek, forehead, and ear to my cuts on my cheek, but it had to be done. I was just glad that the pain meant it was getting clean. The last thing I needed to worry about was an infection in one of these damn things.

When I was sure I'd gotten most of the dried blood, I looked at the once light green washcloth to find it had been turned a reddish-pink from my blood mixing with the water. Something else I'd have to throw in the washer when I got done. I dropped it to the floor of the shower and reached for my shampoo.

As songs sometimes did, my favorite song by Sixx:A.M. suddenly popped into my head. I smiled slightly and began singing:

"_You can't quit until you try. You can't live until you die. You can't learn to tell the truth until you learn to lie."_ I began swinging my hips with the beat I knew all too well. _"You can't breathe until you choke. You gotta laugh without a joke. There's nothing like a funeral to make you feel ALIVE! Just open your eyes, just open your eyes–"_

"_And see that life is beautiful!"_ Another voice sang quite out of tune - I probably did too, but I hadn't been expecting this particular voice quite yet. I peeked out of the curtain and saw Stan standing in the doorway in his dark brown jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans, with a shit-eating smirk on his face and he finished the chorus: _"Will you swear on your life, that no one will cry, at my funeral?"_

I groaned slightly and tried to get my heart rate to slow down. "Dammit, you scared the shit out of me!" Would it have killed him to knock or something?

Stan laughed loudly, "I seem to be doing that a lot lately!"

I sighed and sent a glare at him. "You got here quick. Did you speed all the way here?"

He nodded. "Yep. How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess," I said sarcastically. I felt something sliding down my temple and pressed my fingers to it to find it was my shampoo. Oh yeah, I hadn't rinsed it out yet. "Give me a couple of minutes Stan." I retreated back behind the curtain and rinsed the shampoo out of my hair before turning to grab another washcloth. I froze when I saw Stan's head poking into the shower. His eyes were wide and filled with shock and horror.

I flinched back a bit and started trembling. He could see it all: every bruise, every burn, and every cut. It was all right there for him to see, nothing, not even a towel was covering me. No. No, not like this. My eyes fell to the floor of the shower and I chuckled humorlessly. "Trying to get a peek of me in the shower? Pervert."

"Kyle," Stan said simply. His voice was shaking like he was either about to cry or scream, I wasn't sure which.

"Go wait for me in the living room Stan."

"What's going on?"

"Go wait for me in the living room!"

"Tell me why you look this way Kyle!"

"It's nothing!" I screamed.

Stan stepped into the shower fully clothed and grabbed my chin to force me to look directly in his eyes. In them I could see the horror, the concerned, and the fear of someone who really cared for me. "It's not nothing! Now tell me the truth!"

"No." I stepped back from him with tears flooding my eyes. "You'll just hate me."

"Hate you?" He shook his head. "Kyle, I love you."

"Well, I'm sorry if I find it hard to believe after the last person who told me that started abusing me!" I covered my mouth with my hands as soon as I finished that sentence. I looked back at Stan's eyes, now wide with terror. No, no, I didn't say that! I didn't just fucking say that!

"Kyle…Cartman…he's abusing you…?" He asked slowly, as if he was trying to process the question in his mind as he was asking it.

Unable to deny it or to keep the tears down this time, I nodded and sobbed out, "Y-Yes. He has the entire time we've been married now." I collapsed against Stan's chest when he moved close to me again and sobbed into his jacket. I sniffed and said out of the blue, "You shouldn't have gotten in with your clothes on."

"That doesn't matter right now." As I looked up at his now tearstained face, he held me tight against him. "Why haven't you told anyone?"

My hands tightened on his jacket. "Eric threatened to kill me." More tears fell down my face. "He would do it, I know he would." I couldn't believe how easily the truth finally came from me. It was different with Stan than with Kenny or Butters for some reason though. I felt safe, like nothing could get to me in Stan's arms. I never felt anything remotely like that around Kenny and Butters.

Stan's eyes locked with mine again and he kissed me softly. After a moment, my eyes slipped closed and I leaned into the kiss, my arms snaked up and around his neck to hold him there. The warmth of being held by him, and the electricity and the fire of kissing him came rushing back all and once. I felt whole. I felt complete. This was what love felt like, this was what I had been reaching for and yearning for. An escape, a sanctuary for my heart and soul. I didn't feel scared and I didn't feel like prey waiting for a predator to come along and hurt or kill me. I felt…beautiful…unafraid…loved…happy.

I was disappointed when we parted, but the feeling that had escaped me yesterday when our lips parted stayed with me. For that, I was glad. I smiled softly when he cupped my cheek and said, "I love you Kyle."

A few more tears fell down my face as I said, "I love you too Stan. So much."

His smiled mirrored mine and for a few more seconds we stayed just like that. When those few moments had past, he released me. "I should let you finish up so we can head over to Kenny and Butters'."

"Okay." I nodded and watch as he stepped out of the shower. I looked out to him and said, "Stan, don't tell them about this."

He looked back at me. "About us?"

"No…about the abuse."

"Kyle–"

"Stan please! I'm so scared that if even they find out, Eric will know I told someone and…Stan, he'll kill me." I laced my hands together and tightened them against each other. "Please…just for a little longer. I'll tell them soon, I promise."

Stan sighed, he clearly didn't like not telling anyone else or not doing anything about it, but he still nodded. "Fine. But if you don't say something soon, I will even if you tell me not to."

"But Stan–" I stopped when he raised one hand in a silent cut off.

"Don't start with that. You can't keep going on like this, your body's going to give out, that is, if your will doesn't go first and you either commit suicide or just die. I couldn't live myself knowing I could've stopped it. So if you say nothing soon, I **will**!"

I wanted to tell him no and that he wasn't going to say anything because I wouldn't let him, but instead, I nodded. As much as I wanted to stop him from saying anything, I wasn't. He could tell what was best for me, and I trusted him to know it. "Fine." I noticed how wet his clothes were then. "If you need some clothes to change into, you can look in my closet for something."

Stan looked down at his soaking wet jacket and pants and shrugged. "Nah, I'm good."

I nodded. "Okay. Um, could you wait for me in the living room?"

"Of course. I'll just watch some TV, okay babe?"

I turned light red. "Okay." When he shut the bathroom door behind him, I smiled softly. I wasn't sure how or why, I was completely in love with Stan Marsh and he was in love with me. And it was the best damn thing that had ever happened to me.


	7. Not Strong Enough

"_And I know it's wrong/And I know it's right/Even if I try to win the fight/My heart would overrule my mind/And I'm not strong enough to stay away"_

_Chapter 7: Not Strong Enough_

Luckily Stan decided to be merciful with his stops today. I wasn't sure if it was because of me or because of the fact that he was stopping in a driveway instead of a parking space, but I was grateful. I wasn't entirely sure I could stand his skid stops with the way I still ache. (I took some Tylenol before leaving the house though, so I didn't hurt too badly.)

I laughed when Stan shivered as he stepped off of the crotch rocket. His clothes were still soaking wet from his decision to step in the shower. "I told you that you could borrow some clothes if you needed to."

"I probably should've taken that offer," he muttered with an annoyed tone.

"Or maybe you shouldn't have gotten in the shower with your clothes on," I laughed.

He glanced at me with an eyebrow raised. "No, that was gonna happen regardless." he then smiled and tugged at the sleeve of my green v-neck sweater to pull me over to him and into his arms. "I'm just happy to see that you're smiling again."

I smiled softly and winced slightly as he gently pressed his fingertips to the bandage now covering the four cuts on my cheek. He asked how I was going to explain that to Kenny and Butters. "I'll tell them I fell into one of the rosebushes in me and Eric's front yard," I said. "I do it all the time actually."

Stan's eyes narrowed like he didn't believe m. "Kyle…"

"No, really, I do! That's not an excuse!" it really wasn't. I had a bad habit of tripping into the bushes - maybe that's why Eric kept them there. "You can ask Kenny, he's seen me do it!" And he laughed when I did…

"Okay then," he sighed. He grabbed my hand to lead me to the door and I followed as if I didn't know where to go. His hand was warm even though it was easily below freezing outside. It was strange but, at the same time, not. There was always a degree of warmth around Stan, something that invited me to him and told me stay there forever. And I was more than happy and willing to do just that and stay forever by his side.

He pressed the doorbell down and stepped into the house the second the door open. He was seriously shaking with the cold; he should probably borrow some of Kenny's clothes for now. Said blonde raised an eyebrow at Stan and then looked at our linked hands. When I realized Kenny had noticed, I pulled my hand away with a light blush.

Kenny smiled knowingly and then looked back at Stan. "A little too cold for you Marsh?" The smile changed to a smirk.

"Can it McCormick," Stan retorted. "I'm freezing my ass off."

"And that's because," I sighed, "genius here decided it would be funny to jump in the shower with his clothes on. I offered him some dry clothes but he turned the offer down."

"I didn't think I'd nearly freeze to death riding over here," he sighed.

Kenny laughed loudly. "That's what you get for not thinking!" He grabbed Stan's shoulder and steered him towards him and Butters' room. "Come on, you can borrow some of my clothes while yours are in the dryer."

When those two were gone, Butters smiled at me and asked, "Could you help me cook? I'd really love the help."

I returned the smile. "Sure." I followed the smaller blonde into the kitchen and threw the bacon he handed me on a counter skillet waiting for it to heat up. It'd been a while since I've been able to cook without having to look back over my shoulder in worry about Eric attacking him because he didn't want a particular thing to eat, it really was a relief.

"Um, Kyle," Butters said in a slightly higher voice than usual, the voice of Marjorine, "can I ask you something?"

I looked over at him and nodded. "Anything."

"What happened to your cheek?"

I looked back to the bacon from Marjorine stirring together the pancake mix in a clear bowl in one arm. "I fell in the rosebush next to the driveway again."

"Again? Oh Kyle, please try to be careful. You know how me and Kenny worry about you."

I smiled again. "I know, I'm sorry."

"And I'm sure Stan's really worried about you."

"It's just a scratch, nothing to–"

"That's not what I meant," he said to cut me off.

I looked back at him to see a soft, knowing smile gracing his face. "What did you mean then?"

"You two are in love, right?" I turned red. Shit, even he caught onto that? "If he saw you in the shower, I'm sure he saw those bruises on your arms," not just on my arms Marjorine, everywhere, "and he's got to be even more worried than me and Kenny. Am I right?"

Worried? I think Stan's **beyond** worried at this point. I told him about the abuse, not the details, not yet, but enough to where I actually saw tears in his eyes mixed with anger. I was almost sure he was going to storm from the house and go to the bookstore to shoot Eric dead himself, though there were two problems with that thought process now that I think about it: 1) Stan doesn't know where Eric works. 2) I don't think Stan was going to leave me alone after I told him, the look in his eyes told me that he didn't want to let me out of his arms. I really wished he hadn't.

"Kyle?" Marjorine blinked up at me, his eyes filled with both concern and with the unanswered question.

"Oh," I cleared my throat, "sorry about that, I zoned out. Yeah, he really is very worried."

He giggled and then turned to the stove to spoon the batter onto a frying pan. "You don't need to act so bashful or secretive. Even a blind man could see that you two love each other." He looked back at me again. "To be honest, I think you're a good match for each other."

I turned red again and turned my attention back to the skillet in time to get popped by a bit of grease. My hand flew up to my forehead, where I was hit, and I ground my teeth together. It wasn't the worst pain I'd ever felt, but damn did it hurt! I flipped the bacon over and then stepped over to sink to wet a wash cloth and wipe my forehead of the hot grease. Godammit! Guess I should've been paying more attention to the skillet.

Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around my waist and held me close to a body I was already familiar with. I could hear a clear smile as Stan asked, "Get something on your face babe?"

"Yeah, I got popped with some grease…" Wait a second. "Stan, Kenny and Marjorine–"

Marjorine giggled from his place at the stove. "I won't say anything. Like I said, you two are a good match."

"And I won't say a word either," Kenny said from next to the threshold leading to the living room, his arms crossed over his chest. "You two seem to be much better suited for each other than you and Cartman. Besides, this image is much, **much** easier on the eyes." He laughed.

I looked at Kenny and then at Stan, who was smiling softly down at me, and suddenly had a smile of my own cross my face. It was wonderful to know that me and Stan had another place to come to and two people to trust with the knowledge that we were…well, were we together? I'd like to think so. Even if we weren't technically "together," we were still in love and had the ability to admit it to each other. For now, that was enough.

"Stan, I need to get back to the bacon." I wriggled out of his arms and stepped back over to the skillet.

Behind me, Stan groaned in disappointment, (it was kinda cute). "But, but…!"

I wagged a finger in the air. "No buts."

Marjorine turned to look at both Stan and Kenny. "You two go wait in the living room, we'll tell you when the food's done."

"Okay darling," Kenny said. I glanced back in time to see Kenny walk up to Marjorine; I turned my head away and then found Stan kissing my uninjured cheek.

I turned bright red again, earning a short laugh from my raven-haired love. He smiled at me. "You're easy to make blush."

"Godammit Stan," I growled. I really wish I'd stop acting like a fucking schoolgirl and pull myself together around him! This is ridiculous!

He laughed a bit more. "You love it."

Somehow my face burned even brighter with that statement. I really did love it, it was just…well, I guess it was weird. Stop blushing, stop blushing, stop blushing! (That's not working…dammit.)

"Hey," Kenny grabbed onto the sleeve of the white sweater he was letting Stan borrow, "stop flirting and let's go watch some TV." He drug Stan out into the living room.

I looked over at Marjorine as he began giggling again. "What?"

He looked at me with a wide smile. "You two are cute."

My face turned red again, I looked back to the skillet and threw the finished bacon onto a plate set to the side. "Who wants eggs?" I yelled, unable to control the volume of my voice at that time.

From the living room, Kenny and Stan both laughed loudly, presumably at the sound of my voice. "Over easy," Kenny yelled back.

"Scrambled," Stan said.

I sighed deeply. Dammit, I was really bad at hiding my embarrassment around these three. I'd always been bad at hiding it around Kenny since he was my best friend, but it was always annoying just how much he seemed to enjoy it. Damn him!

Marjorine giggled again. "I'll take mine sunny side up."

"O-Okay…" I reached into the fridge for the eggs and continued cooking.

It was days like today that I was happy to be alive and breathing. Days that were, regardless of my embarrassment, fun and full of laughter. These days were hard to come by lately, so I cherished each one like it'd be the last time I'd ever live to see one. And I was never sure when another chance to just hang out with the people I cared about and laugh without any worry or fear even blipping briefly into my mind would come. This time though, was even better.

I popped my head into the living room with a smile. "Food's ready."

Stan jumped to his feet, smiling. "Great, I'm starved!" He grabbed onto my hand and led me over to the table so I could sit next to him as we ate.

And the reason it was better today was sitting next to me. The bright light in my otherwise dark reality: my beloved Stan.

…

"Thanks for the food guys," I said with a smile still on my face.

Beside me, Stan nodded. "Yeah, I loved it. Also, thanks for letting me use your dryer," he chuckled, "I really appreciate that." I glanced over at him, he was back in his jacket, unzipped now, white t-shirt, and blue jeans since they'd finished drying while we were still eating.

Kenny absently waved his hand. "Don't worry about it."

"You two should come over soon," Butters said happily - he had changed back a few minutes ago. "We could do this again!"

I nodded. "Sounds like fun."

Stan grabbed onto my hand again and gently pulled me towards his crotch rocket. "We've gotta go, see you guys later."

"See ya!" Butters yelled after us.

"Be careful you two," Kenny said.

"We will be," I said back. I pulled on the helmet Stan handed to me again and held onto to him as he pulled out of the driveway and began speeding back to his apartment.

Like I expected him to, he did a skid stop in his parking space and put the kick stand down. As much as I wanted to, I didn't bitch about the stop, just sighed loudly. He chuckled again and rested an arm around my shoulders as we walked for the door of his apartment.

"You know," he said like he just realized something, "we never finished _Rocky Horror_."

"No, but," I sent a mischievous glance up at him and stepped in front of him when we entered the apartment, "there's only one song I'm particularly concerned with."

"Oh yeah?" He smirked. "Which one?"

"_Touch-a, touch-a, touch-a, touch me,"_ I sang with a light blush crossing my face.

His smirk widened. "You wanna be dirty?"

"Damn right," I said as I pulled him into me.

He slammed the door behind him and crushed his lips into mine.


	8. Shattered

"_Illusions of the sunlight/And the reflection of a lie/Will keep me waiting/With love gone/For so long"_

_Chapter 8: Shattered_

The moment out lips touched the feeling of time stopping returned to me. I barely noticed Stan stripping my shirt off, all I knew was that his hands were caressing me far more gently than Eric's ever had over ever bruise and cut and burn until one finally rested on the dip of my lower back and the other rested against my injured cheek softly. Another thing I didn't notice, I was on my back on the couch while Stan was working on the button of my pants. He worked quickly and I was thanking every possible God for that, I wanted him so badly!

When he moved to plant kisses on my neck, I noticed that, with the exception of his jacket, he was still fully dressed. I tugged at the back of his shirt until he gave in, lifting his arms so I could deprive him of that article of clothing. He moved back up to connect our lips again and snaked his tongue into my mouth. My own tongue circled his but didn't fight him for dominance. I didn't want to dominate him, I wanted **him** to dominate and claim **me**, and I wanted him to know I was willing to give my entire self to him. He was my beloved and the only one I'd willingly give myself over to.

"Stan," I breathed out as his slowly moved down my form, planting kisses as he went. His teeth gripped onto the zipper of my pants and slid down, his hands then gripped onto the waist of my jeans and boxers, pulling them down around my knees. I sucked in a sharp breath as his tongue flicked my tip.

"How very bad of you," he said in a teasing tone as he ran his tongue up my length, "getting hard for a man who isn't your husband."

My eyelids slid half shut as I turned light red. "Then for now," I moaned as his tongue ran up me again, "let's just pretend **you're** my husband."

A could hear a smirk ringing clear in Stan's voice as he said, "Now that's a wonderful idea." His mouth then closed around my cock and then lowered his head so that I could feel myself hitting the back of his throat.

My mouth fell open as a loud moan ripped from my throat; his head was bobbing up and down with his tongue grazing my entire length as he continued. I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually received a blowjob as opposed to being forced to give one. It was so fucking wonderful! I threw my head back against the couch cushion and moaned as I rolled my hips to match each time his head moved down. Oh God, I was going to come…!

As if sensing this, Stan stopped. I looked down at him to find he had a smirk gracing his face. I started to pout. "Why'd you stop?"

He chuckled seductively and kissed me again. I heard his zipper come undone. "I didn't want you to come already baby," he breathed; I kicked my pants the rest of the way off. "I want you to savor this."

I moaned again and wrapped my arms around his neck so I could kiss him again. "I will," I hooked my legs around him, "I will."

One of Stan's hands regained its position on my lower back and rubbed the bruise there softly for a moment before he entered me. My legs tightened around him and I disconnected our lips to cry out. He was inside! He was inside of me and it felt **so** good! After all the time I'd had such painful sex with Eric, I had nearly forgotten how good sex could feel. And Stan, he fit so perfectly, like he was made for me.

I arched my back, pressing my body against his as I cried out and he began to move back and forth in me. A moment later, he sped up his pace, grunting and moaning my name with each hard thrust. When he hit my prostate, I tightened my arms around him and called his name to the mostly empty apartment. Fuck, I was really going to come this time!

"Oh God," I cried out, "Stan!" I gave out one last loud moan and released everything I had onto our stomachs. While I was still tense from the release, Stan called my name and buried himself all the way inside of me to release himself.

He stayed in that position for a few moments, tensed himself, before he collapsed on top of me. I let out a painful yelp and he quickly flipped us so that I was lying on his chest. I couldn't blame him since he seemed exhausted but that really hurt.

"Sorry about that," he panted.

I smiled and looked up at him. "I'm fine, don't worry."

"That's good." One of his hands tangled itself in my hair as he pulled me forward to give me a chaste kiss. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, I loved it."

He smiled at me. "I'm glad." He kissed me again. "I love you Kyle."

I smiled into another kiss and said back, "I love you too Stan." When our lips parted again, I rested my head on his collarbone and allowed my eyes to slip closed.

Perfect.

This moment was perfect.

…

I woke up to the sound of Infected Mushroom's _"Becoming Insane"_ playing from one of the front pockets of my discarded jeans. Immediately, I woke up and scrambled off of the couch to my phone, accidentally waking Stan up in the process. That was Eric's ring tone and if I didn't answer, I knew what would be waiting for me at home.

I clicked the answer button and pressed the phone to my ear. "H-Hey Eric."

"_Why aren't you at the house?"_ He demanded.

What? I looked at the digital clock sitting on top of Stan's TV, it was almost three thirty. Shit! "Sorry, I lost track of time. I'm hanging out with Stan and–"

"_Again? What the fuck makes you think that you're allowed to be around that asshole at all?"_

"He was my best friend when we were kids," I muttered into the phone, "we're just catching up."

"_Well stop 'catching up,' and get your ass back here! I need food and sex!"_

I started trembling. I should've known…I should've known that Eric would be the reason a day that began so wonderfully would end like it always did. With me either passing out or sobbing myself to sleep. I didn't want to, but I muttered back, "Yeah…I'm heading back…"

"_Finally, you're acting like the obedient slave I taught you to be! Hurry up!"_ With that as his goodbye, Eric hung up.

I shut my phone and wiped the tears that gathered in my eyes away. I didn't want to go back; I wanted to stay here with Stan. Not just for today but forever, until I drew my last breath. But I couldn't, I had to go back, I was still married to that asshole.

I felt Stan kneel down behind me. "That was Cartman?"

I nodded and sniffed. "Yeah, it was." I started to sob, Stan pulled me into his arms and held me against him. "I…I have to go back."

"No you don't," Stan said comfortingly, "you can stay here with me. You can stay safe, Cartman wouldn't ever be able to touch you here. He'd never be able to hurt you again. I'll keep you safe, I promise. I'll protect you from him."

I sobbed even harder at his words. I knew he was telling the truth and that's what really made me cry. I loved that he was willing to risk himself for me, but I hated that even with that promise that was filled with nothing short of love and concern I **had** to go back. "I-I wanted to s-stay here, I really do!"

"Then stay."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have to go back to him Stan, I…I'm still married to him." I sniffed and tried to wipe away some of my tears, but it was pointless, they were quickly replaced with even more.

"Kyle," Stan turned my head to look up at him, a few tears were falling down his face, and he wiped away some of my tears, "please don't go. I don't want you hurt again."

"Stan, I have to."

"No you don't!" His arms tightened around me and held me close. "Please don't leave! Don't go back to him!"

Another sob escaped me and more tears fell. God, I hated that I was tearing him up inside, but I had to go back. There was no avoiding it, Eric would find out eventually where I was if I never returned. He would hunt me down, find me here, and then kill me, but first he'd kill Stan. Of course Stan would go first, because he'd be trying to protect me. That was the last thing that could ever happen. I couldn't let Stan get hurt out of my own selfishness.

Regardless of this though, I nodded and said, "Okay…I won't go back." I buried my face into his chest and closed my eyes again. "Can we just go back to sleep? I…I really need it."

Stan nodded and said, "Of course." He leaned us back against the couch and relaxed. He believed my lie. "I love you."

"I love you too," I muttered in return.

I stayed against his chest for a few more minutes, until I was sure he was fast asleep, before I slipped out from under his arm and got dressed. I tip-toed over to the door and slipped out of the apartment. I'm sorry Stan, but I can't let you get hurt because of me. I wiped my face of the tears that kept falling and fixed my hair a bit before running back for me and Eric's house.


	9. Bleed Like Me

"_You should see my scars"_

_Chapter 9: Bleed Like Me_

I regret leaving Stan's apartment now, now that I'm laying on the tiled floor of the kitchen with my right arm limp and sending sharp pulses of absolute pain through my body. My left hand gripped onto my swelling arm as I screamed and Eric stepped down on my wrist, I heard a distinctive snap and screamed again.

This time was worse than before, like somehow he knew what me and Stan were really doing, and that that made me happier than I'd ever been before just from me walking in the door.

…_Fifteen Minutes Earlier_…

I stopped in front of the house and looked to the front door, panting. I had gotten lucky that Stan hadn't woken up and followed me here on his crotch rocket; I didn't want to face him. Yes, I loved him, and yes, there was a part of me that wished I had stayed behind and trusted that Stan would be okay, but it couldn't happen. I just didn't want him to get hurt.

I unlocked and opened the front door. I sighed quietly before stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. The moment the gears locked into place, Eric was upon me, glaring down at me with his fist raised to strike.

When I opened my mouth to speak, his fist connected with my cheek and I stumbled back into the door. Not even a full minute and he was already hitting me? He was really pissed off today. "Eric," I mumbled, "please wait."

"For what?" He grabbed onto the bottom dip of my v-neck and pulled me against him so I could look directly into his glaring eyes. "So I can listen to some stupid excuse as to why you weren't here when you know you should be?"

"What if I was studying?" I yelled back. I snapped my mouth shut after that question left my mouth. I never yelled back, that was giving Eric an open invitation to smack me around as much as he damn well pleased.

He smirked wildly and I knew then that I had made a tragic mistake. "That wouldn't be a problem if you hadn't already told me you were with Marsh. But tell me something:" he threw me into the living room and into the coffee table in front of the couch, I fell back on top of it and yelped when I hit a stack of magazines, "did you **fuck him**?"

I clenched my teeth together and tried to ignore the intense pain in my lower back and I said back, "N-No! I told you, we were talking!" My eyes widened as one hand closed around my throat and squeezed. My hands grabbed onto his wrist and I began to struggle. "E-Eric," I gasped for breath, "stop!"

"Then tell the truth!"

"I am! Eric, please, I can't breathe!" I coughed and gasped for small gulps of oxygen to keep conscious.

"Tell the truth and I'll let you go. Admit that you fucked him you third-rate slut!"

For half a second I considered telling him everything: the visit to Kenny and Butters' this morning, the brunch, and then me and Stan going back to his apartment to make love. Admitting that would've granted me oxygen and enough time on the earth to think about what I could've had with Stan, and to realize how stupid I was to come back here knowing full well what was waiting. Instead, I choked out, "I…am…" Desperate for air, I brought my knee up into his groin.

When Eric released me to grab at his crotch, I slipped to the floor coughing and gasping for air. I could breathe! God, I never thought I'd be so happy to do the simple task allowing air to flow in and out of my lungs, but it meant that I was still alive!

I looked over at Eric when he let out a pained cough. Oh shit. I probably shouldn't have kneed him in the balls, but I didn't want to die from being choked by that bastard. Actually, I didn't want to die at all, but that seemed practically unavoidable at this point. The look in his eyes said he was going to fucking murder me.

Slowly, I stood and backed towards the kitchen when Eric regained his posture and began to…was he…**growling** at me? I held my arms in front of my body defensively as he stomped towards me with a look of absolute crazed fury carved into his face. Seeing that look on his face made me absolutely certain that I was going to die.

"What the **fuck** gives you the right to do that shit?" Eric screamed.

I began to tremble as I continued backing away. I was going to die; there was no doubt in my mind about that. "I needed air Eric; I just did what I needed to do so I could breathe."

"Bullshit!" He screamed as his fist once again hit the side of my face. I slammed into the kitchen table and I felt the four cuts on my cheek reopen under the bandage and start to bleed again. "You will **never** dare to even look at me wrong when I'm done with you!" He grabbed the back of my head and slammed my face into the table. "You little shit!"

I screamed as I was thrown to the ground and kicked in the chest, back against the wall. I could feel blood running from my nose and could even taste it as it leaked past my lips and into my mouth. For some reason the blood from my nose felt thicker, tasted more metallic, and, when I could see it, looked like a deeper red. It was like I was being reminded of what I gave up to be in this Hell.

Stan…if I was with him right now, I wouldn't be on the ground with blood running down my face, in pain - hell, I was sure my nose was broken - and I wouldn't be fearing for my life. I'd be happy, I'd be in his arms, maybe doing something "mundane" - watching a movie, cooking dinner, something. I wouldn't mind though, actually, I'd love to be just sitting on the couch in Stan's arms right now…anything would be better than being here taking hit after hit from Eric, the man I married…the man who told me he loved me.

When I was yanked back to my feet and slammed against the wall, tears streaked down my face as I yelled, "Did you **ever** love me? Just tell me that Eric! Was there ever a moment when you actually felt love for me?"

Without even the twisted, satisfied smirk I'd come to know to appear on his face, Eric said, "No. Who could ever love such a weak little bitch?" After a quick moment of silence, he grabbed my right arm and yanked it forward, very nearly pulling it out of its socket. I shrieked, and his smirk came back at last. "Answer my question: **Who** could love you?"

That's when I said the words that would decide Eric's next actions: "Stan could, and he **does**!" Suddenly my arm was thrust downward, my elbow bent backwards over his knee and then there was the sound of snapping bones and the simultaneous sudden screeching pain my arm being forced in half. I shrieked again and fell to my knees. It felt like an explosion just rattled through my arm, sending a shockwave of absolute pain through me.

"You whore!" Eric screamed down at me. His foot connected with my chest again, slamming me back against the wall once more. "I knew you were fucking him!"

Tears continued down my face and a sob escaped me as I collapsed to the tiled floor. Someone, please help me! Another shriek ripped from my throat as Eric stomped down on my wrist and I heard the same snap and felt the same pain as when he snapped my arm. Please, someone! Help me! **Stop him**!

I coughed and blood - I was unsure if it was the blood from my nose that had leaked into my mouth or if it was from my chest - flew from my mouth. Another sob escaped me as I was kicked again.

I gasped for breath and braced myself for another blow…but nothing came. When he didn't hit me again, I glanced up at Eric between strands of my hair in time to see him turn away. I heard something jingling and then saw his car keys. He was leaving? Thank God!

"When I get back with dinner," he said to me, "I expect you to be cleaned up. And make sure you clean up your blood before it stains the floor!" With that, he stomped off and out of the house.

When I heard the door slam shut, I pushed myself up with my unbroken arm and then gripped at the table to pull myself to my feet. I gasped for breath, praying that there were no broken ribs, and, if there were, that nothing pierced my lungs.

"Son-of-a-bitch," I groaned, my voice was strained and sounded weak. I needed to get to a hospital, I needed a doctor. My hand dove into my pocket for my cell phone. I slid it open and clicked on my most recently added contact.

"_Kyle!"_ Stan's voice resonated with concern over the phone. _"Where are you?"_

"I'm sorry Stan," I panted, "I came back to Eric…"

"_W-Why? I told you that you didn't have to!"_

"I know…and," I ground my teeth together to try and suppress a pained scream, "I should've stayed."

"_What's wrong? What happened?"_

"Stan, just come get me. I need to get to the hospital. Please."

"_Okay! I'm on my way! I'll be there in a minute babe! I love you."_

"And I love you." I slid my phone shut and limped over and out of the front door, grabbing my car keys as I went. I wiped the blood off of my face as I shut the door behind me and sank to the concrete in front of the door holding my broken arm.

This…was the worst pain I had ever felt.

Not just physically either. Hearing Eric say that he had never loved me, not even for a little bit, made my heart shattered all over again. Okay, so maybe I didn't love him either at this point, but there used to be a time when I loved him with my entirety.

In high school, all I had ever wanted was for him to notice me, to love me. When I thought I had that, I so happy, I might as well have been walking around on cloud nine. Every moment with him made me smile and when I told my family, I was willing to give up everything and everyone just to be with him. He was my beloved, my boy toy, and the man I knew I would marry.

We made plans for after we were married. We were going to adopt a daughter, Alicia, and then a son, Michael, when she turned five. We were going to grow old and die together, surrounded by our children, their spouses, and our grandchildren. Everything was planned out, and there was absolutely no sign of the man he would become after we were married.

What brought that side of him into the open after that long, I'll never know.

"Kyle!" Stan ran up the sidewalk towards me. He ran all the way here? "Oh God…" One hand covered his mouth in horror and I saw tears begin to form in his eyes.

"Stan," I smiled just a bit, happy as ever to see him, "I'm sorry I left. Can you forgive me?"

He hit his knees in front of me and pulled me into the most careful hug. "This isn't your fault. You don't need to ask for forgiveness." He took the keys to my car when I gave them to him and unlocked the passenger's side door. A moment later, he ran back over to me and carefully picked me up bridal style. "I'll get you to the hospital. You're going to be okay Kyle."

My smile widened. He was so kind to me, and he was absolute best person to and for me. He was no one less than exactly who I wanted to be with forever. When he placed me in the passenger's seat, I grabbed his chin and kissed him. "Thank you…so much."

"You don't have to thank me. I love you Kyle, and I'll protect you from Cartman from now on. I'll lay my life down for you, he'll never hurt you again. I promise."


	10. Black Dahlia

"_And I've been abused/I feel so used/Because of you"_

_Chapter 10: Black Dahlia_

"Kyle?" I glanced over at Stan's concerned face as my eyes slowly opened. "You awake?"

I groaned and nodded. I was awake, but all I wanted to do was go back to sleep. I felt like I'd just been hit by a goddamn ice cream truck! Fuck that surgery was brutal!

Stan had gotten me to the hospital in record time and I was immediately taken to the E.R.. I don't remember anything past being placed on the gurney seeing as I was given a rather strong dosage of a morphine shot to kill the pain and knock my ass out. I remember something…I think it was Stan saying he'd be there when I woke up. That might not be what it was though. Oh well, he was here next to me, that's all that mattered.

"How're you feeling?" Stan asked with a slight smile.

I glanced down when I felt something around my hand and saw Stan's hand holding onto mine, I tightened my grip on his hand. I looked back up at him and said, "I feel like someone ran my ass over." Which, again, was true. My right arm was on fire and my face was pulsing with pain. I could **really** use some more morphine, or some kind of pain killer!

He laughed, "Well, it's not your ass that they did surgery on, so that brings up a few questions."

I laughed, barely caring that the action made my face hurt. Leave it to Stan to take something I meant in all seriousness and turn it into a joke. I smiled up at him. "You know what I meant."

He chuckled a bit more and then gently kissed my forehead. "I know, but I do love to see you laugh."

I smiled again. Thank you Stan. For being here, for loving me, and, above all… "Thank you for saving me."

His smile dropped, causing mine to as well. Did I say something wrong? "Kyle, don't thank me. You got hurt; you could've **died** because I let you go back to that bastard!"

My eyes fell to our hands and squeezed his. It wasn't his fault, I left on my own. If anyone's at fault… "It's…my fault. I left of my own accord after you told me that I could stay, that you would protect me. I just…I didn't want you to get hurt."

"…Don't worry, Cartman can't hurt me."

"Yes he–"

"Not physically." I looked up at his face to see sorrow etched there. Sorrow for me, for the situation, for everything that's been happening for the past six months. His hand moved to cup my cheek. "And it's not your fault, it really is–"

"Cartman's!" Me and Stan looked over at the door to see an angry Kenny standing there in his army fatigues next to a very worried-looking Butters. "You idiots need to stop blaming yourselves and blame the person who actually landed you in this room in the first place Kyle! **He** broke your nose! **He** broke your arm! And **he** broke your wrist! So no, it's not Stan's fault, and no, it's not your fault either! It's that fat ass's fault!"

There was a moment of silence in the room before Stan muttered, "Damn Kenny…"

Even though Kenny's rant took everyone off guard, he was absolutely right: this **was** Eric's fault. True, I never blamed Stan in the first place, but the entire time I've been blaming myself for what's been going on. I was just too weak to prevent it, so I thought I allowed it to happen, but I can't help if someone is stronger than me. It wasn't my fault that Eric was stronger than me. It's not my fault…it was Eric's, it always had been. Yes, I've hated him for it, always acknowledged the fact that **he **was beating me, but I just…blamed my weakness.

Wait, how did Kenny and Butters know to come here anyway? And how…? I looked at Stan. "Did you tell them?"

Stan looked back at me and nodded. "I did. They deserved to know."

"But Stan–"

"We already had a suspicion Kyle," Kenny said quickly, cutting me off, "you know that."

Butters walked over to me and gave me a very careful hug. "We've been so worried about you, to be honest, I'm a little hurt that you never told us. I do understand why you told Stan though. You love him, and you trust him with your life."

"I do." I nodded. "But…there's another reason I told him: he saw me in the shower. Everything…he saw it all."

"And not just bruises," Stan continued for me, "but cigarette burns and gashes as well. Every injury on Kyle's body is thanks to Cartman."

I nodded once again. "…It…It's true… Some the scars on my body are from gashes he made six months ago, shortly after our honeymoon. They'll never fade…" A permanent reminder… I smiled just slightly though. "Isn't it kind of cruel though, that this newest injury will be the first to heal?"

"Well…actually…" Stan turned his eyes to the ground.

"What is it?"

"The doctor said it would take at least four months for your elbow to fully heal since it was entirely shattered. He also said it was a miracle you didn't pass out from the sheer pain of it."

My eyes widened. "Shattered?" It didn't feel that bad, at least I didn't think so, though I did have two other broken bones sending pain signals to me at the same time as my elbow. I probably didn't noticed because of that.

"Yes."

"Oh Kyle," Butters said in a worried, yet apologetic tone, "I'm so sorry! Y-You must be in such pain!"

I chuckled a bit. "I'm fine." Not really, I still felt like a truck hit me - the shattered elbow explains that at least - and like I needed some serious drugs to make the pain go away.

Lucky for me, a nurse walked in at that moment holding a clipboard with a syringe on it. She looked at the chart and then gave me a kind smile. "Kyle?"

I nodded. "That would be me."

"Great." She strolled over to me, still smiling. She seemed like a kind enough woman. "Are you in any pain?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Liar," Stan said suddenly. "He said he felt like someone ran him over with an ice cream truck ten minutes ago."

"Oh." The nurse shook her head. "Kyle, you have to tell someone when you feel that much pain. We can make it go away." She showed me the syringe. "Morphine, your pain's worst enemy." She giggled a bit.

I groaned on the inside. Nice enough woman, but kind of annoying. And I could swear she was treating me like a kid. I just nodded though and held out my arm for her to put the needle in. I wasn't about to complain to the person with my pain reliever.

"Oh yes," she said as if it were an after thought while putting the needle in my arm, "we called your husband," I sucked in a sharp breath and felt the atmosphere of the room change suddenly, "he said he'll be here soon."

"You did **what**?" I yelled in absolute fear.

She flinched slightly and then looked between me and the others. "Is…Is there something wrong?"

"Those **idiots**!" Stan yelled in fury. "I **told** them that Cartman caused this! Ma'am, Kyle's husband did this to him! You **have** to tell those morons I already told to keep Cartman away from here! Please!"

The needle was pulled from my arm and the nurse backed up a few steps from the bed, towards the door Kenny was still standing next to. "I'll tell them, but the doctors around here are thick-headed. They may not listen to me."

"I'll go with you then," Kenny said. "I may just be a Private, but they should listen to a soldier." He turned and followed the nurse out of the room.

When the two left the room I tightened my grip on Stan's hand. "Stan, Eric's coming here…"

Stan nodded sharply. "I know. Don't worry Kyle, I'll protect you."

Beside him, Butters nodded. "I may not be that strong, but I'll protect you too. You've been like a big brother to me for a while now, and you always protected me in high school when Kenny wasn't around." He smiled. "I guess it's time to return the favor."

I smiled back at Butters. "Thank you," I looked to Stan again, "both of you." Suddenly, my body got heavy and I felt my eyelids slipping closed. The morphine was kicking in. "Stan," I mumbled, "I love you…"

From behind my closing eyes, I could see him look over at me with a tiny smile. "I love you too, get some sleep now my angel."

My eyes fell closed and the black oblivion of sleep took over.

…

When I opened my eyes again, I could no longer feel Stan's hand in minute though I knew there was someone sitting next to me. I glanced to the side and saw the outline of someone sitting in the chair. Who shut off the light? I reached out for the outline.

"Stan?" I weakly called out to the figure.

A hand bigger than Stan's roughly grabbed my hand and yanked me forward and another covered my mouth. What the hell? "No," a familiar voice said with a satisfied, sadistic ring to it, "I'm not your fuck buddy." Eric swooped in close enough that I could see every detail of his smirking face. "I'm your husband."

Eric? How the hell…? WHY IS HE HERE? Kenny? Butters? STAN? WHERE ARE YOU?

Eric's gripped tightened significantly on my hand, forcing my knuckles to grind together under my skin. His smirk became wild. "Welcome to a brand new kind of Hell."


	11. Facade

"_No one knows just what has become of her"_

_Chapter 11: Façade_

Eric? How did he get in here? Where're Kenny and Butters? Where's **Stan**? I pulled back from Eric when his grip loosen around my wrist and pressed against the metal blocker on the far side of the bed. I **had** to be dreaming! This **had** to be a nightmare!

"Now, now, 'darling,'" Eric laughed that sadistic laugh that always made me wonder if I was going to die, "don't strain yourself."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I yelled at him. "Where're Kenny, Butters, and Stan? What'd you do?"

He continued to laugh and I cringed. That wasn't good, it never was. "Technically, I did nothing. All I did was 'suggest' to the doctor attending to you that those three assholes were brainwashing you into believing I was abusing you. The nerve of those guys!" He laughed again.

I began to tremble. Those bastard doctors **believed him**? Wait! Then they got kicked out? Oh shit…I'm screwed. I yelped when Eric grabbed my throat and forced me forward, near his face again. I yelled at him to let me go and then quickly grabbed at his wrist when his hand tightened.

"You still can't tell me what to do, you little–" He stopped when we heard the door opening and then quickly brought our lips together, forcing his tongue into my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut and struggled a bit. No, he couldn't kiss me! Get him away from me!

"Okay boys, break it up," Eric released me as the lights were turned back on, showing the doctor to us, "I can't have one of my more injured patients having sex in the hospital."

Eric chuckled. "Sorry doc. What's up?"

"Well, I need to have a short conversation with Kyle before I give him some more morphine for the pain." The doctor gestured to the door. "Eric, if you'll be so kind? If you're hungry, go down to the cafeteria. I'll join you shortly."

Eric nodded and stood. "Sounds good to me." With that, he left and the doctor took his seat.

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know what your friends were thinking when they told us to call the police on your husband. We weren't exactly going to."

When he didn't continue beyond that, I asked, "Without viable reason? Because I can show you–"

"No!" He looked at me seriously and said, "You should know that your mother-in-law is this hospital's top contributor since she inherited that money from her dead father. Without that money, this hospital would barely keep its head above the water." My eyes widened. What was he saying? What does Leann have to do with this? "She might stop donating to us if her son was suddenly thrown into prison because of something that was said from here."

Tears filled my eyes. "You…You're not saying anything because of the money involved?"

"Bingo kid. We need the money, and what's the life of one person compared to the hundreds we save using Mrs. Cartman's money…?"

"You greedy bastards!" I screamed. I couldn't believe they were doing this to me! They were willing to hand me back over to Eric and allow the possibility that I might die blossom just so they could get some money? What the hell is wrong with this place? "I thought you're required by law to report–"

"Only if we see it, and I haven't seen anything." The doctor stood when the opened once more and the nurse from earlier stepped into the room looking concerned. He looked back at the nurse and smiled. "Ah, Amanda. Do be sure to give Kyle his morphine, he's in such pain."

She nodded. "Y-Yeah…I will." She watched as he left.

I sank back into a laying position and covered my eyes as tears began to flood them. Those bastards didn't care about me at all! Just like every other fucker in America, they were greedy for the dollar and didn't care who got hurt while they found the easiest way to get it. Godammit! A sob escaped me and I began to shake. I couldn't believe this was happening! I was going to die to minute I was released into Eric's care, I just knew it!

"Um," Amanda's voice came timidly from near the door, "Kyle?"

"Are you like them too?" I growled. "Do you want me to get hurt so this hospital can get funding from my husband's mother?"

"No." I looked over at her when she said that, a look of sorrow and determination was etching onto her face.

"W-What?" I sat up a bit. "Repeat that." I couldn't believe it, did she actually say "no?"

"No, I'm not like them." She rushed over to the door and locked it. "I want to help you. I saw your wounds Kyle," she walked back over to me, "and I'm willing to report Eric for you." She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and flipped it open. "You were safer with that man who brought you in than I believe you ever will be with your husband."

I couldn't believe what I hearing. Not everyone in this hospital was a corrupt, greedy bastard after all. I smiled slightly. "Thank you."

She returned the smile and then punched a few numbers into her phone. "This is Amanda Villé, a nurse at Hell's Pass Hospital…"

As she spoke into the phone, I turned my head to look out of the now open window at the clouded sky. Looked like it was about to snow. I smiled again. I knew Stan wouldn't be far away, even after being apparently thrown from my room and told to stay away. When the police came and took Eric away, I would be free to be with Stan forever. Nothing in the world could make me happier than to be with Stan without any fear or worry than Eric would drop himself back into our lives and ruin everything once again. The perfect life and the perfect end to this endless nightmare.

I heard Amanda flip her phone shut and looked back at her. "Well?"

She smiled warmly at me and I knew her next words before she even said them: "The police are on their way. You'll be safe soon."

My smile widened. "Thank you so much Amanda!"

She laughed a bit. "It's nothing. I'd hate for someone to get hurt because of the corrupt nature of the doctors around here."

Before anything else could be said or done, the doorknob jiggled loudly and then suddenly opened to the same doctor from a few minutes ago looking confused. "Why was the door locked?" His eyes fell to Amanda's cell phone. "Amanda, I told you before, no cell phones while you're working."

"Of course." She went to slip her cell phone back into her pocket as the faintest sound of police sirens reached our ears.

As if the doctor knew it, he looked between me and Amanda then snatched her cell phone from her. He hit a few buttons and then his eyes went large and full of fury. He knew she called. "You stupid bitch! What were you thinking?"

"Of the well-being of my patient!" Amanda yelled back.

I smiled a bit. Was the greedy doctor getting angry because this meant no more money for him? How sad. Noticing my shit-eating smile, the doctor sent a glare at me. "Little shit." He snatched a syringe from a small tray near the door. Morphine, or at least that what I assume it what it was. "We're not gonna lose our funding!" He grabbed my arm and drove the needle in with Amanda screaming for him to stop. He pushed the plunger down and then quickly withdrew the needle. "There. I'll go get your husband, then you two will be free to go. You're being released." He left again.

"Shit," I cursed. I couldn't see any way to get out of that mess. The sirens were still faint and Eric would be up here soon.

"Come on Kyle," Amanda said quickly as she took my I.V. drip out of my arm and helped me out of the bed. "Your friends left me an address they said they would be at before they were removed from the premises. I'll take you there myself."

I smiled again. She had to my favorite person in that hospital right now! Offering to take me away from here before Eric could get back to the room was risky, but well worth it. "Thank you so much!"

"No need." She handed me my pants and jacket. "Get your pants on. I'll help you with your jacket. Don't worry about a shirt for now."

I nodded and quickly slipped my pants on under the gown I had to wear; I quickly stripped that off and had her help me get my right arm into the sleeve of my jacket. I zipped my jacket up and then followed Amanda out into the hall, she ran off toward a stairwell at the end of hall she said was only used for emergencies. I got to the stairwell okay, but it seemed that the second I stepped onto the landing to go down the stairs, the morphine the doctor forced into my veins hit me. I fell to my knees and struggled to keep my eyes open. No, not now! Godammit, can't this wait until I'm in the car? Fucking morphine!

"Kyle?" She grabbed my hand and helped me back to my feet. "Is it the morphine?"

I nodded once. "Yeah…I'm getting tired…"

"Can you make to the bottom of the stairs? My car is parked right outside the door."

Before I could answer, a voice rang over to intercom for Eric to report to the fourth floor nurse's station and that Doctor Lang - the doctor attending to me - would meet him there. I forced myself to stay balanced and my eyes to stay open. "I have no choice. Let's go!"

Amanda nodded and ran down the stairs with me following. I was convinced I was going to make it. Dammit, I wasn't going back with Eric no matter what! Nothing, no amount of money or fame, could convince me to go back to that fat ass for even a second! I wanted to be with Stan and I was going to be, no matter what.

On the second floor landing of the stairwell, the morphine hit me again, this time it was more forceful though. I slumped against a wall and slid down to my knees. My eyes slipped closed.

Why can't anything go right for me? With that final thought still ringing in my head, sleep overcame me.

…

I groaned when I finally woke up again. And this time, when I opened my eyes, I was completely surrounded by darkness. Was I in a room somewhere? In a bed? No, I wasn't in a bed, that much I could tell. I was sitting on a concrete floor against a concrete wall. My left arm, for some reason, was over my head and it felt like there was something around my right shoulder.

When I tried to move my left arm down I found why it was above my head in the first place when I heard the jingling of chains and felt the cold metal of a cuff: I was being restrained. "Dammit!" I yelled to the concrete room. My curse echoed; the room was either empty or mostly empty. A basement?

Suddenly a door at the top of the staircase opened, sending in an amount of light. The first thing I saw was my broken Star of David necklace laying on the floor, the same one Eric broke a month ago after he pushed me down our basement steps. I knew where I was and who was waiting for me at the top of the stairs before I even glanced up at his smirking face.


	12. Dear Agony

_"Dear agony/Just let go of me/Suffer slowly/Is this the way it's gotta be?"_

_Chapter 12: Dear Agony_

Eric stalked down the basement steps, his heavy footfalls echoing throughout the concrete room. I cringed back against the wall. Something was coming, something that was going to hurt worse than anything else before. The wild, sadistic smirk on Eric's face said as much.

This was bad, this was **really **bad! This wasn't like before where I could try to run; I was chained to the fucking wall! What happened to Amanda? She said she was going to take me to Stan, so what happened to her?

"Nice try," Eric chuckled wildly, "trying to escape the hospital with that brunette bitch that is. You both had me and Doctor Lang convinced that we were screwed. That I would go to prison for spousal abuse and that he would go to prison for, well, pretty much for being a greedy bastard. Lucky for us the morphine he gave you kicked in and that nurse was unable to carry you." He reached the bottom of the stairs and laughed triumphantly. That was never a good sign. "Doctor Lang put you in my car and I escaped with you in time for the police to show up."

My eyes narrowed defiantly, I wasn't about to look even half as terrified as I truly was in front of him. I knew he'd enjoy it just that much more. "Do you hate me that much? You took me from a hospital, where I **should** be, recovering from the shit you've put me through, instead of shackled in our basement! Why can't you see the simplest shit like this you stupid son-of-a-bitch?"

He took a few more steps towards me. "You're going to regret those words," he kicked my broken arm and I shrieked in utter pain, "you dumb fuck." He knelt down between my legs and reached for the button of my jeans. "Of course, I could take a little 'payment' instead of beating you senseless," he unfastened my button, "plus I've always wanted to try some bondage."

That's when I didn't care if he saw my fear, my eyes widened and I drew my legs back to try to prevent him from removing my pants. "No! I won't let you!"

"Let me remind you of who's in charge here." He bit down on my throat so hard that he actually broke the skin; I could feel blood leaking through into his mouth. He licked his lips of the crimson substance and smirked again. "Your blood tastes rather good today." Smoothly, he pulled my jeans from my lower body and tossed them to the side. My boxers he literally tore away since I wasn't letting him slip them off. "It must be a sign for a good fuck."

I tried to do something to close myself off to him, but he was too strong, I couldn't fight him chained up like this. He'd raped me before, many times before, but I couldn't stand even the mere thought of it. Every time it happened something in me died and I got closer and closer to ending it for him. Since Stan came into the picture, I had hoped it would end, that the want to die would disappear into nothing and that I would eventually even forget I was ever married to this asshole. So no, this couldn't happen! Eric wasn't going to take me like this again! I refuse to let it happen!

When I heard his zipper come undone, I kicked out at his face. I don't know if it because he wasn't expecting it or what, but my foot connected with his face and sent him back onto his back. When he fell back, there was a tiny metallic clink on the ground. I looked over and saw a key lying on the ground; presumably it was for my chains. Why was he carrying that around anyway? Ah well, it would make things easier for me to escape.

Before I could reach for my key with my foot though, Eric sat back up and sent me a death glare. Shit, I had hoped that knocked him out! (Must not have kicked hard enough.) "You little shit!" He punched my cheek, snapping my head to the side for a second. Another bruise to add to the count. He grabbed my ankles and forced my legs back, holding my knees against my chest; his tip began to prod at my hole. "This is going to be painful."

"Eric, don't!" I screamed one last time in desperation.

Just before he thrust forward, his cell phone began to ring in his pocket. He cursed loudly and let me go so that he could answer it. "What?" His eyes softened and he quickly stood to turn away. "Sorry boss, I was arguing with someone. You caught me at a bad time."

Taking the opportunity while he was on the phone, I grabbed the key between my toes and twisted my leg around to place it in my hand - luckily I still had my flexibility from when we tried to make a circus when we were kids. I squeezed my palm shut, concealing the key for now.

"Yeah, I can come in right now, no problem."

His boss called, huh? What perfect timing! I'd have to be sure to thank him for that later; he literally saved my ass by calling Eric into work just now.

He hung up the phone and then faced me again. "I have to go to work, but," he gestured to his still erect cock and smirked, "I can't go like this. Open your mouth and give me a quickie."

I spat at his face. "Go fuck yourself," I growled.

Eric ground his teeth together and turned for the stairs. "Fine, I'll rub this one out on the way." He glanced back at me. "But remember, when I return home, you're going to be in a lot of pain from the waist, down." He laughed and pulled his up before heading upstairs.

I sighed in relief that he didn't do what he normally did and force me to give him a blowjob; he must've been in a hurry. At least that was one less thing I had to worry about right now. The main thing though was whether or not the key he dropped was the one that would unlock my chains. When I heard the front door close, I turned and put the key between my teeth. Quickly, regardless of the dark I was working in, I found the keyhole and unlocked the shackle around my wrist.

Smiling, I grabbed the key from my mouth and pumped my fist into the air victoriously. "Hell yeah!" I moved my arm to unlock the shackle around my arm and then stood up.

For half a minute, I groped around in the dark for my jeans and then pulled them on before searching for the light switch. Damn the fact that I was left in the dark! It made things that much more difficult! After a few minutes I finally found the switch and flipped the light on, lighting the basement with the dim shop lights Eric bought a while back.

With the lights on, I could easily navigate my way up the stairs. Luckily the door was unlocked; I just looked around and then slipped out into the living room. He really underestimated me, though not much can be said about that, he always did. Though I guess considering the fact that I was shackled with no hope of escape it was warranted this time around.

Swiftly, I ran over to the kitchen table where I saw my cell phone and car keys laying and grabbed them. As I ran for the front door, I pocketed my cell phone and prayed Stan was home. I ran out the door without bothering to shut it behind me. What was the point? It wasn't like I was ever going to come back here. There was absolutely no reason for me to be concerned if someone stole something, most of the stuff in there was Eric's anyway.

I dropped into the driver's seat of my Mustang and, with **great **difficulty, started it up and pulled out of the driveway.

Even though I knew Eric was at work, and would be for some time, I sped the entire way to Stan's apartment. Please be there Stan, please don't be anywhere else! I guess I could always call him just to be sure that he was there, but I was surprising him in a way. Surprising him with my well-being, the fact that I was still alive, and that I had escaped Eric. I would always be with Stan, from here on out.

As the apartment building Stan lived in came into view, I saw his dark blue crotch rocket skid stop into its usual space, and I smiled. Got here just in time! Quickly, I blew the horn to catch his attention and then turned into the parking lot.

Through the windshield, I could see Stan's face. His mouth was wide open and his eyes were full of shock. I was apparently the last person he thought he'd see driving up.

I threw the car into park and jumped out. "Stan, it's me."

He dropped his helmet and literally jumped over his bike to pull me into his arms. I could've been seeing things, but I thought I saw some tears alongside his smile. "You're here," he cried - his shoulders were heaving; guess I didn't imagine the tears - to me, "you're really here."

I wrapped my one good arm around him and gripped onto the back of his jacket, clinging to it, to him. This time, I wouldn't let go. "Yeah, I'm here," a few of my own tears streaked down my face, "and I'm not gonna leave ever again."


	13. How to Save a Life

"_Let him know that you know best/'Cause after all, you do know best"_

_Chapter 13: How to Save a Life_

"How'd you escape?" Stan asked me out of curiosity as I heard him flip his cell phone shut.

I cuddled closer to his chest and said, "Eric dropped the key. It wasn't too hard to escape. Driving here was a bitch though."

"Why didn't you call me?" He kissed the top of my head and I smiled.

"I wanted to get out of there, I wasn't exactly thinking of calling someone first." I looked up at him, still smiling.

After the quick moment full of tears we shared when I arrived, Stan rushed me into his apartment and gave me some pain killers. Since the pain killers were nighttime medicine, we decided to lie down in his bed just in case I fell asleep. Shortly after laying down, he called Kenny and Butters to tell them I was with him, safe. I smiled when he told them I was safe; it was true. Now that I was with him, I would always be safe. I only hoped that I didn't wake up later to find that it was a dream and I was still locked in the basement. I think that's why I feared sleep for the moment more than anything at that moment.

Stan's other arm wrapped around me and his fingers linked with the hand already resting on my waist, holding me closer. "Tired yet babe?"

"Mmm…a little," I muttered. I allowed my eyes to fall closed but still tried to fight sleep. I didn't want to sleep just yet; I wanted to stay in this realm with my Stan. "I don't wanna sleep though…"

"Just go to sleep baby," he kissed the top of my head again, "I'll be here when you wake up. I won't leave."

I smiled again and relaxed against him. "Promise?"

"Always."

That single word echoed through my mind as I drifted off into sleep. For once my dreams weren't filled with fear, hatred, or regret; there were no nightmares this time. Now when I slept, my dreams were filled with Stan, of the happiness and joy I felt around him. I didn't care that I was asleep for once, while at the same time I knew I couldn't wait to wake up because I knew who was waiting for me in reality. I knew that when I woke up, I would no longer be in fear of the person lying next to me. I would be okay, I was safe with Stan.

When I opened my eyes again, I found I was still lying on my raven-haired lover's chest and that he was sleeping now. What time was it? I grabbed my cell phone off of the nightstand next to the bed and slid it open. Before I could see the time, I noticed that I had four text messages. I clicked read.

The first three were from Eric:

_Where the fuck are you, you stupid little shit?_

_E. Cartman_

_When I catch up to you, you'll regret your birth!_

_E. Cartman_

_Who helped you escaped you fuck?_

_E. Cartman_

Finally, there was one from Butters:

_Kyle, Eric just came by here looking for you like a madman. Ken managed to get him out of here without telling him where you are, but we're afraid he's gonna find you soon. You two need to be careful._

_3 Butters_

That one was sent ten minutes ago. I bit my bottom lip, considering waking up Stan to tell him as I hit the reply button.

_Thanks for telling me Butters. We'll be careful, don't worry._

_~Kyle~_

I sent the message and then the home key. It was almost nine at night. No wonder Eric already knew I was gone; he's been off work for probably an hour or so. I'm sure he realized my car was gone and has been looking for it. Wait, if he's looking for my car…!

"Shit!" I yelled as I pushed myself up with my one good arm, breaking Stan's hands apart and accidentally waking him up.

"Kyle," Stan groaned, "what's wrong? Your hand kinda hurts right there."

I looked down and saw that I was digging the heel of my hand into the center of his chest. Oops. "Sorry about that." I sat back with my legs straddling his waist and looked down at him. "Butters text me and said Eric's looking for me like a madman."

He pushed himself up to be leaning back on his elbows and said, "Don't worry, I promised I'd protect you and I meant it. Cartman won't get to you."

"I know you promised, but Stan, I'm scared. We have to do something about my car."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your car?"

I nodded. "I'm sure he's looking for it. If he sees it in the parking lot, he'll know I'm here."

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. "I hate to do anything to that beautiful car though." He gestured for me to get off of him and I did so that he could stand up too.

"I'm not saying we have to junk it," I said quickly - I wasn't going to do anything to that Mustang, that'd be a travesty, "just trade it out for a different car. Please Stan, we really can't risk it."

He sighed again and then finally nodded. "Okay. But later," he grabbed onto my waist and pulled me against him, "because right now I want you."

I smiled and wrapped my left arm around his neck to kiss me. I stopped him as he moved to unbutton my pants. "Sorry Stan," I apologized when he gave me a pout, "but not now."

"Why not?" He pushed his bottom lip out to try to make his pout more effective, I almost caved in, he looked kinda cute like that.

I shook my head and stepped away from him. "Please just wait a little bit longer." I didn't tell him that Eric tried to rape me while I was restrained; just that he hit me a few times. I couldn't blame for not keeping himself under control when he didn't know that that always deterred me from sex for a while.

Stan's eyes softened with concern. "Did something happen?"

"…I don't wanna talk about it," I muttered. I think he knew from my tone of voice alone what had happened, but he didn't say anything, just nodded and pulled me into his arms.

"Okay." He tilted my head up to look at him. "I can wait a bit."

I smiled once again and gave him another kiss. "Thank you." I stepped away from him and turned for the living room with him following me. "So, what're we gonna do about my car?"

"I don't know Kyle. You can't exactly be without a car and I have to go to work tomorrow…"

I turned around to look at him with wide eyes. I forgot he worked at the KFC. "You…work tomorrow? Stan–"

"I know, I know," he said quickly. "I'll talk with Kenny and Butters, I'm sure they'll watch after you."

I cocked an eyebrow up suddenly. The way he worded it made it sound like someone was babysitting me. I told him that and he laughed. Apparently my thoughts about his choice of words was funny.

When I crossed my arm over my chest to grab onto my broken one and gave him a slight out, he kissed my forehead and said, "You know what I mean. They'll protect you babe that's what I meant."

I chuckled. "I know; it was just the way you worded it."

Still laughing, he shook his head and pulled me down on the couch with him. "Speaking of work though, what'd you want for dinner?"

"I don't know," I wrapped my arm around his waist and held him close, "surprise me."

…

When I woke up the next morning, I realized that I did something I haven't done since high school: I woke up with the sun and an alarm clock.

Stan was in the shower when his alarm clock started to screech. I groped around in the dark for nearly a minute before finally finding it and switching it off. Oddly enough, I didn't go back to sleep, I pushed myself out of the bed and walked out into the living room. I looked out of the window and smiled at the sight of the rising sun, beautiful. Simply beautiful.

Sometime while I was still staring out at the rising sun, Stan came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. His chin rested on my left shoulder gently, and I reached back to tangle my fingers in his still wet hair. I glanced back at him as he slid the curtain closed, my smile now only for him.

"Enjoying the view?" He breathed into my ear.

I shuddered down to my very core. His hot breath on my neck and ear felt wonderful, I could feel some blood rush to my face. "Yeah, but," my hand traveled down to the button of his black work pants, "I want a different view."

Stan chuckled through a low moan and he grabbed my hand, lacing our fingers together. "I have to go to work babe."

I groaned and turned around to completely face him. "Now?"

"Yes. Believe me, if I didn't have to pay rent, I'd stay here with you all day. I'll be home before you know it though," he stepped back with my hand still in his; he bent slightly over and kissed the top of it, "my prince."

I turned red again. Stan was a true romantic, I had never been treated to such things being said or the words that came from his mouth. It was a refreshing switch. "Wow Stan," I laughed, "I would've never taken you for a romantic."

He laughed too. "Not many people would." He gestured to the night pants he let me borrow and then to my shirtless upper body. "Do you need some help getting changed before I go?"

I looked at my broken arm and made a face. I hated asking for help with such a simple task, but I couldn't very well do this myself, (actually, I could, it would just take a while and be harder than hell). "Yeah, I think I might…"

"Well then," his arm slipped around my waist and he guided me back towards the bedroom, "let's get you dressed."

I stopped by the bed and watched while he rustled through his closet for something for me to wear. I smiled in amusement as I admired Stan in his work uniform: a bright red KFC polo and black jeans with a matching belt. It was weird, I had to admit, but it was better looking at him in the uniform of a fast food restaurant than looking at Eric in the uniform of the bookstore he worked at. Plus, Stan actually had an ass! Oh, and what a wonderful ass it was! So very nice on the eyes!

Smirking, I snuck up behind him and grabbed his ass full-palm while leaning forward against his back. "Having some trouble finding a shirt honey?"

"I wasn't until you grabbed my ass…" He snatched a random t-shirt from a hanger and quickly turned to face me, his face was completely red. "Told you, I have work."

"I know," I pecked him on the lips, "but I just wanted a little feel."

"Well," his hands reached around and grabbed my ass; I turned red again, "so did I."

My smirked came back and I grabbed his ass again. "If we're gonna have an ass-grabbing contest, why don't we do it the right way?"

Stan laughed and then pulled the bright red t-shirt over my head. "I told you Kyle, I have work."

I sighed. Damn that he had to work! I was horny! I pulled the neck of the shirt past my face so I could look at him. "Fine…" I slipped my left arm into the sleeve and pulled on the right sleeve.

"Here," Stan said quickly. He took the sling off from around my neck and arm, and grabbed onto the cast around my arm. "This is probably going to hurt like hell." His fingers hooked onto the sleeve of the shirt and then forced my arm back to get it through the sleeve.

I ground my teeth together to hold back a scream as he did this, though part of the scream got through. Suddenly I heard him apologizing over and over until the shirt was completely on. When the shirt was on, Stan fastened the sling around my neck and adjusted the sling around my arm until I said it was fine.

"You any help with your pants?" Stan asked when the sling was in place.

"Not unless it's to just take them off," I said teasingly.

"Kyle…"

I sighed. "I know, I know. No, I can change my pants on my own."

He chuckled and handed me a pair of jeans. "Okay. I need to go." He kissed my forehead. "You know where the pain killer is if you need it?"

I nodded. "Uh-huh."

"I gave you my work number right?"

"Yeah."

"You have–"

"Stan," I cut him off before he could fuss anymore, "I'll be fine. Look, I'll probably hop on the internet and do my homework for Algebra Two, then I'll hang out with Butters since Kenny had to go to the field today. If anything happens, I'll be sure to call you okay…?"

He sighed a bit and then nodded. "Okay. If Cartman–"

"I know." I gently pushed him toward the door. "Now wasn't it you who said a few minutes ago that you needed to get to work?"

He laughed and gave me another kiss at the door. "Alright. I'll you around three."

I nodded and waved as he rode off on his crotch rocket. Such a mundane morning and such a caring boyfriend. I smiled. This was exactly what I had been wanting. Someone to help me, to worry carelessly over me. Stan was exactly what I wanted and more.


	14. Sanctuary

"_My sanctuary/Yeah/Where fears and lies/Melt away"_

_Chapter 14: Sanctuary_

I absently tapped the end of a mechanical pencil I had found against my forehead while nearly glaring at the computer screen in front of me. I'll admit, regardless of my good grades in high school, I hated and sucked at math…and this damn problem was no exception.

_X__¸X+X=One-Fourth (All Whole Numbers – All Different)_

"…The fuck?" I muttered to myself. "This problem makes no sense…" Maybe I should just go back to sleep, at least that world made some sort of weird sense. And the sense it made didn't require me to nearly kill my brain cells to figure it out either.

Come on Kyle, you've solved harder problems than this! Okay, what two whole numbers can divide into something that I can add another whole number into to get one-fourth? …

…

…

…

Come on, think!

After a few more minutes of straining my brain nearly to the point of headache, I yelled at the computer, "Fuck it!" I hit the X in the top right corner of the screen and stood up. I needed something to get rid of my headache…

I walked over to the kitchen and opened the cabinet where Stan kept his medicine. I popped three Tylenol in my mouth and then grabbed my cell phone out of my pocket as it began to vibrate. Text message, from Eric. Out of curiosity I clicked read.

_You won't be able to hide for much longer you shit. I'll find you, then I'll wring that pretty neck of yours!_

_E. Cartman_

Vacantly, I wondered if I could turn these text messages he's been sending me in to the police and get Eric arrested. That would solve the problem quickly, but it might not work. There just had to be a way to get him arrested though, I was already tired of hiding. If only there was a place me and Stan could go for a while where we didn't really have to hide…

That's when it hit me like a brick wall; there **was** a place like that! My parents had given me the only key to the family houseboat as a wedding gift for me and Eric. Of course, Eric has never been there, and I've only been there maybe three times since getting married to him - once every two months. It was about time I went back, and this time I'll bring some company for myself.

My smile at the thought quickly dropped though. In my haste to leave the house, I had left the key in the end table next to my side of the bed I shared with Eric. I dropped onto the couch with my good arm crossed over my chest and gripping my broken arm. Well, shit. If I went back alone and tried to sneak in and out, I'd be caught for sure…there had to a way for me to get that key though.

Before I could think of anything more on the matter, there was a knock at the door. I quickly glanced out of the window and then opened the door for Butters to come in. "Hey Butters, have you heard from Kenny yet?"

He shook his head and slowly sat on the couch; I joined him. "No, but he said they were doing P.T. today. It'll be a while before he calls."

"Ah, I see." I glanced over at the TV and debated turning it on. For all of his girly-ness, Butters did like to watch football. There was probably a game on today. But I stopped as I reached for the remote; I needed at least two people to successfully get that key from the house. I smiled. "Hey Butters, wanna play a game?"

He smiled. "Sure. What game?"

"Assassin's Creed."

He nodded. "Yeah, but we'd have to go back to me and Ken's house. The PlayStation's there."

"No, I meant," my smile widened, "real life." A concerned look past over Butters' face, so I elaborated: "We wouldn't kill anyone; just hear me out on this. I left something important at Eric's and I need to get it back. We could pretend that that's the Apple of Eden and that Eric is the Templar we have to steal it from. I would go in and get the 'Apple,' while you stay on lookout and distract the 'Templar' if he showed up."

"I don't know Kyle," he said hesitantly, "it's seems really dangerous. If we're caught–"

"We won't be as long as you distract Eric if he shows up. Come on," I pumped my fist into the air above my head, "let's go steal the Apple of Eden from that Templar bastard!"

"You get too involved with video games…"

"Oh," I wrapped an arm around his neck and gave it a playful squeeze, "come on…! It'll be fun! Afterward, we can do whatever you want."

After a few silent moments, Butters sighed resignedly. "Fine…but don't blame me if we're caught!"

…

We ended up taking Butters' convertible and parked it at him and Kenny's house to avoid drawing attention should Eric be out and about. The house I had shared with Eric wasn't too far away from Kenny and Butters', we could walk the distance and we did. Though, I guess we didn't walk, we ran the entire way just in case.

At the house, I saw even Eric's car was gone from the driveway. Good, he was probably at work. That would make things ten times easier. As planned, Butters squeezed between the rose bush and the wall at the front of the house, next to the window of me and Eric's room, and sank back into the shadows to hide. Should Eric arrive, I told him to throw the fake rock at the kitchen window, not far from him. The noise would distract Eric and act as my signal to get the hell out.

I slipped into the house and silently shut the door behind me. Nothing had changed other than the boxes of Snackey Cakes and a bag of Cheetos around the couch. Dude, I've been gone for a day and he's already turned the living room into a sty? Seriously? I ignored the urge to clean it up and walked to me and Eric's old room.

I shut the door behind me here as well, just in case he came home and I had to make a quick escape out the window or something - hopefully it didn't come to that though, that rose bush hurts.

I pulled open the drawer to the end table next to my side of the bed and began rummaging through all the junk I had thrown in there. That key was in here somewhere, I knew it. The problem was sifting through everything to find it. It shouldn't take too long though; there really wasn't **that** much–

My train of thought stopped alongside my heart as the sound of breaking glass filled my ears just before Eric's voice echoed, "WHAT THE **FUCK**?"

Shit! I tore the drawer out of the end table and dumped it on the bed. I quickly rummaged through my junk until I found the silver key holding the code to get into the marina on the same keychain. I pocketed the key and ran over to the window; I threw it open and kicked the screen out before dropped into the rose bush beneath the window.

As the thorns cut my skin open, I bit down hard on my bottom lip to suppress a scream of pain. Shit, that fucking **hurt**! I stayed in that crouched position, shaking and wanting to scream, until Butters grabbed my jacket and ran through the rose bush pulling me along behind him.

We sprinted all the way back to him and Kenny's house, not even slowing down a little bit until we were at the front door of their house. We burst into the house and Butters slammed and locked the door behind us.

In the house, we both began to pant because of the distance run and the adrenaline pumping through our veins from that escape. That was really close! Suddenly, I dropped to the floor and began laughing. Bent over and trying to catch his breath, Butters asked me what I found so funny.

I gulped in a breath of air, "We did it! Phew! I got what I went in there for!" I laughed again.

"Which was," he sucked in a breath, "what?"

I pulled the key out of my pocket and showed him. "It's the only existing key to my family's houseboat, a sanctuary for me and Stan for a few days. Eric doesn't know where it is, so he couldn't look there. It's perfect."

"So, let me get this straight," he held out his hand to help me back to my feet, "we just risked our asses so you could get a **key**?"

I raised an eyebrow. I guess Butters didn't take much enjoyment in the fact that we weren't caught, scared the hell out of Eric, **and** broke a window. "Look Butters, we're okay. And now me and Stan have a place to retreat to for a while. Everything's gonna be okay now."

He sighed. "Fine." He pulled me towards the bathroom so we could bandage the cuts from the rose bush. "You realize that Stan and Kenny are going to freak out when they hear what we did, right?"

I laughed again. "I know, believe me, I know."

…

Around three, while me and Butters were watching the anime _Loveless_ - he had the entire series, so why not? - there was a knock at the door. We looked at each other and I quickly put my finger to my nose. Hell no was I answering that door! I didn't know who it would be, and I didn't want to risk it.

Butters sighed and hit the pause button of the DVD remote before walking over to the door. There was silence for a few moments before the door unlocked and opened. "Hey there Stan," he greeted happily.

"Hey Butters," Stan's voice traveled into the house; I smiled, "Kyle's here, right?"

"Yeah, he's in the living room."

I stood up and walked over to Stan, giving him a delighted hug when he ran up to me. "Hey there hon!"

"Hey babe." He let me go and smiled at me. "What've you two done all day?"

"Nothing much."

His eyes suddenly filled with concern and he touched a spot on my face I had to put a band-aid on to make it stop bleeding. "What happened here?"

"Oh, that?" I began laughing; Butters sighed and walked into the kitchen muttering something about hot chocolate. "It's really a funny story. Hahaha!"

Stan raised an eyebrow. "What'd you do?"

"Um," I scratched at my cheek, "well, me and Butters–"

"It was your idea!" Butters yelled from the kitchen.

Oh yeah, it was, wasn't it? "Okay, so **I** got an idea for a safe haven for us to retreat to for a few days: my family's houseboat."

Stan nodded, seeming to like the idea so far. "Okay, continue."

"But the thing was…I left my key at Eric's house," I saw Stan's face pale, "so me and Butters snuck over there," I pulled the key out of my pocket, "and I got it!"

"That was **really** dangerous Kyle! What the fuck were you thinking?" Stan was less amused than Butters was.

My smile dropped and I turned my eyes to the side. "I was thinking that we needed to get away from Eric and this is the best way."

"You could've been caught! Both of you!"

"But we weren't!"

"You just escaped from him Kyle!" He pulled me into his arms and I could feel him shaking down to his very core. What me and Butters did really scared him. "Cartman would've killed you both if he had discovered you. Me and Kenny…do you really think we'd be able to endure that?"

I bit my bottom lip and wrapped my arm around him. "I'm sorry. But we weren't caught and now me and you have a place to go to."

Stan sighed and held me at arms length. He smiled just slightly. "It's true, you weren't caught, and yes we now have a place to go." My smile came back at those words. "But Kyle, **never** do anything like that again!"

"Don't worry, I won't." I wasn't going to tell him we were almost caught, he'd probably never let me out of his sight again.

Both of us turned our attention to Butters as he walked out of the kitchen with three cups of cocoa on a serving tray. We each took a cup and sat down on the couch to finish watching _Loveless_, though I wasn't that into it anymore and I had a feeling Stan wasn't either. Now that he was next to me again, I felt safe as ever.

…

"You both," Kenny pointed at me and Butters, "are incredibly stupid." That was his response to being told about me and Butters' trip to Eric's house. "But **you**," he pointed at me, "are the worst. You **just** escaped Cartman and you went back, risking your freedom as well as you and Butters' lives, to get a key. Do you not know how to pick a lock?"

I crossed my uninjured arm over my chest and sighed heavily. "No, I don't. Besides, we weren't caught, we're both fine. Now look, Stan called into work for the next three days saying that there's an emergency," which was true, he didn't lie, "and during those three days, we're going to be at the houseboat. It's the safest place from Eric since he has no idea where it is."

Kenny sighed and then nodded. "Okay. If you're absolutely certain it'll be safe."

I nodded. "I am."

"Well then," he smirked and winked at us, "have fun. And be sure to tell us all about it when you get back."

I turned light red as Stan laughed beside me. Godammit Kenny. No matter the situation, he always managed to find some way to get a sex joke or perverted comment in. Never freakin' failed. I grabbed onto Stan's hand and stood up. "Well, we have to go. We're leaving tonight."

"You're not going to be able to ride on the back of the crotch rocket with your bum arm," Kenny pointed out. "If you want, me and Butters can give you a ride to the apartment. We're going out for dinner tonight anyway."

"Oh, uh," I looked at my arm; dammit, "sure."

"Alright." He scooped his truck keys from the table in front of him and stood with Butters' hand in his. "Lets go."

The four of us went outside and to where everything was parked. I gave Stan a quick kiss before he got on his crotch rocket and I jumped in the back of Kenny's truck. The entire ride to the apartment was silent; the only sound was the blaring heavy rock music. I sighed and my eyes fell to white stain next to me on the bench seat that dominated the back of the truck, I flinched away from it. That reversed any doubts I had about them breaking this truck in.

When we stopped at the apartment building, I jumped out and turned back to Kenny, who had the window rolled down to tell me to have fun once again. "Hey, you might wanna get something to clean your backseat. There's a pretty obvious white stain back there."

Both Kenny and Butters looked back; Butters turned bright red and hid his face behind one hand, Kenny laughed. "So there is! Thanks for telling us Kyle, I'll be sure to get some cleaner." He waved. "See you guys later." He rolled up the window and drove off when I stepped back.

I turned and walked back to Stan. We went into the apartment long enough for him to pack an overnight bag with enough clothes for the both of us, for the three days we were going to be at the houseboat, and for me to grab my car keys before we left in the Mustang.

Before we left South Park, we stopped at a supermarket so we could get some food - mostly lunchmeat and stuff for sandwiches. When we got back in the car Stan said,

"I've been thinking, instead of selling the Mustang, why don't we repaint it?"

I glanced over at him as I pulled out of the supermarket parking lot. "Repaint it?"

"Yeah. Cartman's looking for a classic red Mustang, right? He won't be looking for any other color, so when we get back, why don't we go to a body shop and have it painted a different color…? You know, blue, green, something that won't stick out but he won't expect."

I thought about that for a minute. It certainly was a better idea; I wouldn't have to car shop, I could keep my wonderful car, plus it'd be easier to hide from Eric in plain sight. I smiled at Stan. "That's a great idea!"

He smiled as well, looking almost relieved that I had agreed. "It is?"

"Yeah! We can see if someone will repaint it for cheap when we return."

"Awesome!"

I looked at the gas gauge when I noticed the light come on. Crap. "We need gas."

Stan nodded. "Okay. I'll drive from the gas station, just give me directions."

"I can drive."

"You shouldn't though. I'm driving."

I sighed deeply. "Fine."

…

It was well past dark by the time we finally arrived at the marina outside of Beaverton. I pointed to the parking space closest to the gate. With the exception of a few people who were constantly here, the parking lot was empty. It was the middle of winter though, so not many people would think to be at the marina.

I grabbed the grocery bag from the floor of the Mustang as Stan walked to the trunk and grabbed the overnight bag he'd packed from there. I locked the car when he slammed the trunk and handed him the grocery bag so I could get the key out of my pocket. I punched the code for the gate in so we slipped inside before I slammed the gate shut and led Stan to the houseboat all the way at the end of the marina.

Easily, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I turned the light on and looked around. It wasn't big, just roomy enough for about four people to be in there comfortably, thin blue carpet ran throughout it, and there were two full-sized in front of the small bathroom, along with a small kitchen area and a small fridge in the front room.

Stan nodded in approval. "Nice." He put the two bags down and then kissed me. "It does my heart good to know that Cartman's never been here."

I smiled and then closed and locked the door. "Well, no one else besides me has been here since I got this place from my parents. So," I wrapped my left arm around his neck and kissed him again, "why don't we break it in?"

Stan chuckled seductively and grabbed my ass like he did this morning. "Sounds like a good idea."

I jumped into his arms with my legs hooked around his waist and brought our lips back together. He stumbled over to one of the beds and collapsed on top of me on it. I didn't even care that that sent a wave of pain through my arm; I just wanted him so badly.

Before anything else could happen, I flipped us so that I was on top and then slid down Stan's front to work on his button and zipper with my teeth. He wasn't fighting me, but I guess he knew what I was about to do to him.

Right after I had his pants open, there was a knock at the door. I sat up with a heavy, annoyed sigh. All I wanted to do was have sex, godammit! Was that too much to ask for? Stan glanced back at the door when the knocking continued and wondered out loud who it could be.

"Probably Steven, he lives in the boat next to this one." I climbed off of Stan. "Don't move," I winked, "I'll be right back and then we can pick up where we left off."

Stan smiled and kissed the top of my hand. "You're in charge tonight, my prince."

I smiled and then made my way for the door. "Hey Steven," I opened the door, "it's kinda late, don't–" I stopped myself and my eyes widened. It wasn't Steven, it was Eric holding a metal baseball bat back like he was about to swing.

"Batter's up," he said with a wild smirk.

"Shit!" I slammed the door shut and ran back a few steps before the bat came through the frosted glass window on the door.

Stan was suddenly by my side with his arms around me protectively. "What the fuck?"

Eric's head poked through the hole in the window and looked around with wild eyes. "He~ere's Eric!"

"That's just creepy," Stan muttered next to me.

I grabbed onto Stan's hand and quickly pulled him to a side door hidden on the other side of the fridge. "Over here!" I pulled him through the door in time for Eric to kick the door in and step inside.

Running, I pulled Stan around the back of the boat and jumped back onto the dock. This was **really** bad! How did he get here? How the fuck did he know where we'd be?

"Kyle?" I looked over at an elderly man standing in the doorframe of the houseboat next to my family's. "What's going on? What was that crash?"

"Steven, someone's trying to kill us!" I told him quickly. "Call the police!"

"Hey, whore!" Eric screamed from somewhere on the boat. "I told you I'd wring your pretty neck when I caught up to you!"

Steven looked back at me and nodded. "Right! You boys run!"

I nodded and pulled Stan behind me as we ran down the dock back toward the gate. This was insane! Why couldn't we just have one place to escape to? Just **one**!

At the gate, I punched the button and rushed Stan out before me. I slammed the gate shut and grabbed onto Stan's hand again to run for the Mustang, but we both froze at the sight of my car. Eric had already used that baseball bat to completely the body of the Mustang and had slashed my tires. He assured that we'd have no escape.

"My car!" I yelled in frustration.

Stan made a face. "Oh shit. He's coming!" This time, Stan grabbed onto my hand and pulled me along as we ran through the parking lot to get to the road.

Before we got too far though, we heard the sound of glass breaking and looked back. We stopped when we saw Eric fall over unconscious and Steven standing there with a broken scotch bottle in his hand.

"You know," Steven said absently, "I was ironically saving that bottle for just such an occasion." He laughed.

Me and Stan exchanged an amused look and then started to laugh too. Leave it up to the old guy to save the day! I was indebted to Steven for this! He just saved me and Stan from too close of an encounter with death.

Steven tied Eric up with some rope that was lying around until the police arrived a few minutes later. One officer came up to me and Stan and began question us about what happened. I looked past him to see the now conscious Eric get shoved into the back of a police cruiser kicking and screaming.

He was under arrest…he was going to prison… I fell to my knees and started to sob, (I barely noticed when Stan knelt down and put an arm around me as he continued to explain the situation to the officer).

It was finally over, Eric was gone. I was finally…

Free.

…

**READ ME!**

Just because Eric has been arrested doesn't mean the story's over. Keep reading for more twists and turns yet to come!


	15. Easier to Run

"_Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past/Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have"_

_Chapter 15: Easier to Run_

…_A Year Later_…

"I'm heading to work now," Stan called to me from the living room.

I grabbed a dish towel next to the sink and went out to meet him. "Okay," I gave him a quick kiss on the lips, "see you tonight."

He smiled. "We're still making the homemade pizza for tonight?"

"Of course."

"Alright, see you then." He turned and left.

I shut the door behind him and then turned back for the kitchen to finish the dishes up. As I did, I caught a glimpse of the four thin scars on the left side of my face in the mirror I hung there. I ran the tips of my fingers over the scars.

Cruel how the shallowest of all the cuts Eric gave me during our short marriage were the only ones to leave scars. Even that gash on my left side completely healed without leaving even the faintest scar. Makes absolutely no sense, but at least people couldn't really see them unless they knew where to look. But seeing them myself suddenly reminded me of everything that's happened over the past year.

Two weeks after Eric was arrested for attempting to murder me and Stan, he was brought to court on more charges, mostly the abuse I brought to the attention of the police. He ended up getting life in prison for spousal abuse, attempted murder, and rape. I cried in happiness when the verdict was read. I think Stan did too, but I wasn't sure. Eric was gone, I was free of him!

A month afterward, I had papers filed for divorce. Since Eric was in prison, he had no say in the matter. We were officially divorced on January 13th, (the year anniversary of that was coming up now that I think about it).

Ever since that final connection with Eric was severed, life has been just perfect. I had gotten the house in the divorce, though all I did when I got it was sell all of Eric's stuff and then sell the house. I never wanted to go back in there, too many bad memories; even Stan understood my reasoning behind selling the house and didn't care. We still lived in the apartment he bought when he first moved back to South Park.

I smiled and turned back for the kitchen to finish the dishes. A mundane life had overtaken me since then. Some days it was boring, but I loved it. It was **so** much better than being married to Eric though, so I can't complain. I acted like a fucking housewife half the time though, and sometimes it was a wonder we weren't married yet.

I sighed heavily as I set the final plate aside to dry. Well, Stan **did** propose to me a month ago, but I turned him down. After my experience with Eric, I was terrified of marriage and what it can turn people into. When I explained this to him, he said he understood and that he could wait.

I think he's still hurting over it though.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket when it rang. "Hey Butters."

"_Hey there Ky!"_ He greeted enthusiastically. I sighed quietly at the nickname Butters had given me recently; even Stan would call me that occasionally because he said it was cute. _"You and Stan are still coming over tonight, right?"_

I smiled and drained the sink. "Yeah. Wouldn't miss it."

"_Great! Are you guys still bringing the pizza?"_

"But of course." I dried my hands off and walked into the living room to watch TV. "I'm going to start it in a bit. I'm going to wait for Stan to get off work before heading over there though."

"_Okay. Fine by me. If you're not here by the time I leave for the airport, I'll be sure to call."_

"Alright, thanks. Do you need any help setting things up?"

"_No. Everything's almost done, plus Clyde's coming over later to help with the dais."_

"Okay. I'll see you later then. Bye."

"_Bye."_

I flipped my phone shut and picked up the novel I've been reading the past few days, _Medusa's Master _by Cindy Dees. It was a sappy romance novel, but what could I say…? Butters got it for me for my twenty-first birthday and I'd yet to read it. I must say though, I should probably read more harlequin. As sappy as they are, harlequin books are really good.

It was hard to get into the book right now though with both the conversation with Butters and the one I had with Stan last night going through my head at the same time. I sighed and closed the book again.

Kenny was an enlisted man in the United States Army, currently serving his first tour in Afghanistan. He's been there for six months now, and every chance he gets, he calls Butters or sends him a letter. Tonight he'll be back in South Park for his first leave, and though he'll only be here for a week before leaving for another six to eight months, I can tell Butters can't wait to see him. And tonight, we're all throwing him a big welcome back party. (It probably won't last long. I'm sure he'll be ready to fuck Butters' brains out the moment he gets off the plane, and of course Butters will be more than ready to take it.)

Then there's the conversation I had with Stan last night…

He said he wants to enlist in the Army and fight by Kenny's side. I wasn't going to deny him that if it's what he really wants, but there was no guarantee that he would even be assigned to the same unit as Kenny. Plus I worry about my best friend so much…worrying about Stan being in a war zone alongside that would probably make me have a panic attack. But also he said that he was only thinking about it. He hadn't made up his mind on the matter yet and it could still be a long time before he finally does. We have time–**he** has time to make his decision, and whichever it'll be I know will be right choice for both him and me.

I sighed again and then looked at the clock. Stan will be clocked in by now. "I worry about you Stan," I muttered to the empty space, "that's all." I groaned and leaned back against the back of the couch with my fingers linked behind my head. "I'm so **bored**! I hate holiday breaks!" With Christmas in a few days, the school I still attended was on its usual holiday break. "How can Butters do this all day?" I fell off to the side, lying down on the couch on my right side, (that arm still bothered me occasionally after completely healing eight months ago but it was mostly joint pain).

It seemed he was always finding something to clean or cook though. I don't think I've ever seen him and Kenny's laundry basket have more than just a few scraps of clothing in it at a time, their house was always spotless, and every piece of food Butters touched seemed like it magically transformed into something delicious. On top of that, he always greeted everyone with a smile and very rarely did or said anything near as profane as Kenny - well, in public that is. I chuckled. A housewife women from the fifties and sixties would envy, and men would line up for, (Kenny would kill them before they even got close though).

"Hmm… Speaking of cleaning," I looked at the carpet in front of the couch; little bits of chips and other foods were trapped there, "I should probably vacuum…"

…

I slid the hot metal pan onto the stove and shook my hand to dispel the heat. Crap, the fucker was hot! Good thing I had Stan buy over mitts, even if they don't work all too well. I kicked the oven door shut and then dug my cell phone out of my pocket as it rang. It was Butters again.

"Hey. What's up?"

"_I'm about to leave for the airport. Kenny just boarded his connecting flight in Indianapolis. He should be landing in Denver in a few hours."_ Even through the phone, I just knew he was smiling. He cried for two days after Kenny left, he missed him being right there.

"That's great Butters! I bet you can't wait to see him!"

"_I really can't! I've missed him so much!"_ Butters chuckled. _"To be honest, I'm pretty useless without him around. It'll be great with him back here, even if it is just for a week." _He said that he's not useful, but I think that since Kenny's been gone he's become stronger. He's proven to everyone that he can stand on his own two feet, without the assistance of someone around him.

I smiled slightly. "That's not true. You may not be able to do everything that Stan, or I, or even Kenny can, but you're not useless. Everyone has their own traits, their own abilities, and their own limits. You know what you can and can't do and that's okay. Nobody can do everything."

There was a minute of silence before he spoke again: _"…Thank you Kyle. You really are a good friend."_

I laughed a bit. "It's nothing. I needed to hear that I wasn't useless once, I figured you might need to hear it too."

"_Yeah…I did… Well, I have to go. I'll see you tonight. Clyde and Craig will be waiting for people to start arriving at the house."_

"Right, got it. See ya then."

"_Bye."_ He hung up.

Craig was there too, huh? Sure, ever since Token moved away, Clyde and Craig have been like brothers, but they always seemed to be together if they weren't with their spouses lately. I couldn't help but wonder if something was going on between those two.

I shook my head as I grabbed a pizza cutter. "I shouldn't speculate such things," I grabbed two oven mitts, "it could be true."

I don't know if it was because I was lost in thought or just insanely focused on cutting that pizza, but I didn't hear Stan come in or walk to me until I heard this being whispered in my ear: "I'm hungry for a snack that's beneath your waist, Ky."

I turned bright red and a shiver went up my spine. What the fuck? I turned and backhanded him. "Pervert!"

"Hey…!" Stan pushed out his bottom lip in a pout. "What was that for?"

I sighed and continued cutting the pizza. "We have a party to go to and Butters already left for the airport. We don't have time."

"Aw…but come on," his arms wrapped around my neck and pulled me back into him, "I wanna see your sexy face covered in lust."

I groaned; my shoulders slumped when he began to rub the side of his face in my hair. "Stan, just because my hair's grown doesn't mean you can cuddle up against my head."

"But it's so soft and **fluffy**!" He laughed.

I sighed. Sometimes I wondered if Stan's gushing would be the death of me, or if the sugar-coated stuff that came out of his mouth when he spoke would give me diabetes first. I glanced back at him as much as I could. "Look, Stan, I wanna have sex with you too, but–"

"Really? Great!" He grabbed my wrist and tried pulling me towards the bedroom. "Let's go then!"

"**But**," that stopped him, "we promised Butters we'd be at that party before he got back from the airport with Kenny. He's already left to pick him up. As soon as I'm done cutting the pizza, we're leaving. You should probably get changed."

"But Ky…!"

"Tonight, I promise."

That's when he did something he only does when he **really** wants something: he tilted his head down and widened his eyes. The puppy dog eyes. "Aw, come on, just a quickie?"

Oh crap. I…no, no, no! I shall resist those eyes! Quickly, I turned around and back to the pizza. I heard Stan say something about me resisting the eyes and said, "Look, we made a promise to Butters that we'd be there. Plus, this is Kenny's return; we need to think about that. Our friends are the most important thing right now Stan. I promise, we can make love later, because…" I turned light red. "I want it too."

His arms wrapped around my waist and he rested his head on my shoulder. "Okay babe. If it's just waiting until later in the night, then I can wait that long."

I smiled and leaned back against his chest. I'm so happy he wasn't selfish or demanding, or a rapist. He was perfect for me, and I loved him so much. So the nagging question came back: Should I accept a marriage proposal if he asked again?


	16. I'd Come For You

"_I can't believe I said/I'd lay our love on the ground/But it doesn't matter 'cause/I made it up!/Forgive me now"_

_Chapter 16: I'd Come For You_

I don't know why, but for some reason an awkward silence had settled between me and Stan driving towards Butters'. …Okay, so that's a lie, I knew exactly why the silence was awkward and why it was there without even music to break it in the first place.

Stan asked me to marry him again, and again, I said no.

He asked me why and in the five minutes I've been driving, I haven't been able to come up with an answer besides the one I gave him a month ago. I loved him, I really did, but I was still so scared of marriage… I hated to see him so broken each time I denied his proposal, but I just couldn't five into something I was afraid of.

I pulled the Mustang - which we got repaired after the incident at the marina, and we ended up repainting to a deep blue - into the driveway beside Kenny's truck and cut the engine. When Stan asked me why again, I sighed, "I honestly don't have a reason that wouldn't sound like an excuse. I'm just Stan, and I don't want to dive headlong into something I'm scared of."

Stan sighed too and turned his face down to the foil covered pizza in his lap. "I know Kyle, but you know I won't change like Cartman did. …You know that…"

"…Yeah…" I opened the door and stepped out.

"Wait a second–" I slammed the door shut and ran into the house before anything else could be said.

I couldn't face him right now; I didn't **want** to face him. I just don't want to see the hurt I saw there a month ago. I had never seen a person more heartbroken than when I said that one syllable word to him. I couldn't say I blamed him, after all we've been through, it was almost like I was expected to marry Stan, but…I was still scared.

Inside, I leaned over the toilet bowl in the bathroom and retched. This happened the first time I rejected him too and I'm not sure why. Maybe I felt that awful for hurting him, it had to be that. This time was different though, it felt like I was running away from him - okay, so I actually did run away before he could stop me, but I didn't mean literally - just so I could distance myself from marriage. And I hated myself for that.

"Kyle?" I turned my head back at the voice to see a brunette man in blue jeans and a red jacket standing there looking at me concernedly. Clyde Donovan. "Are you okay?"

I wiped my mouth and flushed the toilet. "Yeah, I'm fine." I splashed some water onto my face and wiped it with the hand towel next to the sink.

"Did you and Stan get into a fight or something? He's looks bad too."

I sighed quietly and bit my bottom lip. "No…we didn't get into a fight. It's just…complicated…"

Clyde put his hand on my shoulder and smiled at me when I looked back at him. "It'll work out, so don't stress yourself over whatever happened. You two are perfect together, and that kind of relationship doesn't come without a few rough spots here and there."

I smiled back at him. He was right, but a rejected marriage proposal was a bit more than a "rough spot." Still, I said, "You're right. Thank you."

"No problem. Hey, come on, we need to do a few last minute things before Kenny gets here."

…_An Hour and a Half Later_…

Everyone was in the backyard chatting as we were waiting for the text from Butters to warn us they'd reached South Park. And by everyone, I meant pretty much **everyone**. From where I was sitting on the dais next to the microphone with Stan and Tweek, I could see Craig, Wendy, Clyde, Thomas, Kevin, Jimmy, and Timmy. Last time I checked, Ike and George were in the kitchen talking, and Bebe was probably off somewhere making out with Red, (it wasn't exactly a secret that Bebe wanted to bring her into the marriage, but with Wendy pregnant, Clyde couldn't handle another woman.) Plus there were some people from high school I recognized but didn't really know, Kenny and Butters' friends. (A few came up to me and asked how me and Eric were doing, that stopped after I told those few people what had happened and that I was with Stan now.)

"Well," I looked over at Stan, his arms were crossed over his chest, "they should be getting here soon."

I nodded and looked back over at the crowd of people that nearly filled up the backyard. "Yeah. It'll be good for Kenny to be back, even if it is just for a bit."

There was another moment of silence between us before Stan said, "Kyle, could you please just give me a reason? You know, why you won't marry me."

I looked at the ground in front of my boots. This had to be the first year that there was only a little bit of snow on the ground around Christmas time. I glanced over at Tweek as he stood from the edge of the dais on my other side and walked over to Craig. I looked back at the ground. "Stan… I just don't know what to tell you other than I'm scared. I know you must be tired of hearing it, but that's all I can say."

"…Do you not love me?"

I turned my head to Stan. What? Where'd he even get such an idea? "No, its not–" I stopped as my cell phone sounded off in my pocket. It was Butters, he and Kenny were almost here. "Hold that thought Stan." I stood up on the dais and at the microphone. "Hey, Kenny and Butters are almost here! Turn the lights off and get into position!"

Quickly, everyone started running around like crazy trying to get all of the lights and Tiki Torches around the backyard and in the house turned off or doused. Ike and George rushed into the backyard, and Bebe and Red materialized out of nowhere.

I stepped off of the dais and grabbed Stan's hand to help him to his feet. When I did, the lights all went out, covering the backyard in total dark. I wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and kissed him, then whispered into his ear, "I love you Stan, I really do. Just because I'm not ready for marriage doesn't mean that I don't."

Even though it was pitch black around us, I knew he was smiling because I could hear it as he whispered, "I love you too." He gripped onto my hand and rushed me over to where we were to stand when Kenny walked into the backyard.

We smiled and looked to the open backdoor in time for the lights to turn on. "Welcome back Kenny!"

He stood there in silent shock for a moment, allowing me to realize that his hair had grown out again - Butters would have to cut it before he went back. After that moment past, Kenny laughed loudly and dropped his rucksack to the ground as he spread his arms out. "It's **great** to be back!"

After everyone had given him a hug, he turned to Butters and embraced him. "Did you do this babe?"

Butters nodded. "Uh-huh!"

I tapped him on the shoulder and smiled when he turned to me. "Welcome back Kenny."

He smiled too. "Hey there Ky!"

I sighed heavily. "Butters told you my nickname then?"

"Of course," he laughed. He then pulled me into a hug. "I've missed you." He let me go. "Not as much as I've missed my dear Butters though."

I shook my head and laughed a bit. "It's okay, I understand."

He looked to Stan then and smiled. "Missed you too dude, but not as much as Kyle and Butters."

"Nah," Stan grabbed onto Kenny's forearm when his was grabbed, "don't worry about it. With Kyle your best friend and Butters your **fiancé**," I flinched at his emphasis of the word, "I understand completely."

I sighed quietly and turned my eyes to the ground. Stan just wasn't going to let up on the matter, was he? Maybe he didn't realize he emphasized that word though…I doubted it. I looked back up at Kenny and found something there in his eyes, like he knew something was wrong.

"Hey Butters," Kenny looked to him with a smile, "why don't you and Stan go run over to get us all some pop?"

Butters nodded. "Okay. Come on Stan." He walked with my boyfriend towards where the soda was put.

"What's going on between you and Stan?"

I turned back to Kenny. Yeah, he knew something was wrong. I shook my head. "That doesn't matter, this is your time."

"Yeah, and I need to be caught up to speed with what's been going on since I left. So, explain."

"Well–" I stopped as Stan's voice rang out over the crowd:

"You owe me twenty bucks Craig!"

"Fuck you Marsh!" Craig yelled back from somewhere in the crowd of people.

Kenny raised an eyebrow. "What's that about?"

I sighed. Craig and Stan had made a bet that Kenny and Butters would have sex before they got back. Stan, who said they would, must've won. I considered telling Kenny this, but just said, "Nothing."

"Okay…?" He shrugged. "So, continue."

I made a face and then looked back at the ground. "Stan wants me to marry him, but…I'm scared."

"Scared?"

"Of marriage." I looked up at Kenny with pleading eyes. "I love Stan, I really do, but I'm just not ready to marry him yet. He keeps asking me, and I hate seeing him look so heartbroken every time I say no, but… Kenny, I'm sorry to put this on you, but what do I do?"

He shook his head. "Don't worry it, I asked. As far as what to do, if he loves you like you love him, he'll wait for you. I mean, I'm by no means a relationship expert, so this is just my honest opinion, but maybe he looks heartbroken because he doesn't think you love him when you reject him. Just tell him you need to take things at your own pace because of what happened last time you jumped right into a marriage."

I nodded and glanced down again. I've been telling him that, but he just seems so damned impatient. I hate to make him wait or to make him feel unloved, but I just don't want to act hastily.

"Besides," I looked back at Kenny as he rested a hand on my shoulder, "there's no need to rush things." He smiled. "When it's time, you'll know. You both will."

I smiled too. "Thanks Kenny. You really are a great friend."

Kenny's smile widened. "I'm glad you think so."

We talked for a bit more, Kenny telling me of an instance where him and a buddy did something dangerous that they found absolutely hilarious in Afghanistan. Butters and Stan jumped right in when they got back to us, with Butters starting to freak out when Kenny retold the story for them, (it looked like the poor guy was going to have a heart attack).

"P-Please don't ever do that again!" Butters pleaded.

"Well…." Kenny chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head.

"Just don't tell him," Stan suggested with a laugh.

Kenny laughed too and gave Stan a high-five. "Good idea!"

"Ky…!" Butters whined as he threw his arms comically around my neck.

I chuckled and patted his head. "They're just kidding." At least, I thought they were.

Over the speakers set up near the dais, a slow guitar solo began playing. Kenny's smile dropped for a moment, while smiles suddenly crossed me, Stan, and Butters' faces at the sound of the song starting. Butters alone set this up, though he had told Wendy to start it at a certain time. A circle cleared in the middle of the backyard as the lyrics to the song began:

"_I never meant to be the one/Who kept you from the dark/But now I know my wounds are sewn/Because of who you are"_

A wide smile broke out across Kenny's face and he laughed loudly. He grabbed onto Butters' waist still smiling. "Our song!"

"_I will take this burden on/And become the holy one"_

"Come on," Butters grabbed Kenny's hands, "let's dance."

Kenny's smile softened. "Let's."

"_But remember I am human/And I'm bound to sing this song"_

The taller of the two spun them out into the circle of people.

"_So hear my voice, remind you not to bleed/I'm here/Saviour/Will be there/When you are feeling alone, oh/A saviour/For all that you do/So you live freely/Without their harm"_

I smiled up at Stan to find him smiling down at me. This may have been Kenny and Butters' song, but we both knew that we could relate to the song just as much as our friends could. I grabbed onto Stan's hand and let him lead me back to the back porch.

"_So here I write my lullaby/To all the lonely ones"_

He spun me into a dance close to the one Kenny and Butters were doing in the circle, and I smiled widely.

"_Remember as you learn to try/To be the one you love/So I can take this pen/And teach you how to live/What is left unsaid/The greatest gift I give"_

No one else was there. Not to me anyway. To me, only Stan and I existed as we danced elegantly to the slow rock song. I could feel his warmth, his light, and his love. God, he was perfect, everything about him was simply that: perfect. (I was certain there was a more appropriate word to describe him, but why should I search for it when "perfect" did the job…?)

"_So hear my voice, remind you not to bleed/I'm here/Saviour/Will be there/When you are feeling alone, oh/A saviour/For all that you do/So you live freely/Without their harm"_

We stopped and just smiled at each other for a few brief moments.

"Stan," I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down a bit, "I love you."

"_Saviour/Will be there/When you are feeling alone, oh/A saviour/For all that you do/So you live freely/Without their harm/When I hear your cries/Praying for light/I will be there/When I hear your cries!/Praying for light!/I will be there…!"_

"And I love you," his arms snaked around my waist and held me close, "my Kyle."

"_I will always be there!"_

Our lips touched and I melted. It didn't matter how many times we've kissed, every time we did, I felt time stop and my heart turn to putty. I was lucky to have him and I was lucky that he loved me.


	17. Lying is the Most Fun

"_I've got more wit/A better kiss/Hotter touch/A better fuck/Than any boy you'll ever meet"_

_Chapter 17: Lying is the Most Fun…_

By the time everyone was beginning to clear out, it was nearly midnight. Ike and George had left an hour ago, seeing as the city curfew disallowed anyone under eighteen from being out past eleven thirty on weekdays. Stan had offered to drive since I was feeling tired, but he didn't even allow me to get the passenger's side of the car before he pulled something stupid.

He got down on one knee in front of all of our friends and proposed to me again.

At a complete loss of what to do, I looked around. With the exception of Kenny, who looked pissed off at Stan, everyone was smiling and expectation was in their eyes. I was supposed to say yes to a proposal when everyone was around us, it was only right, and it kept Stan from looking like an idiot. I looked back at Stan with a light blush across my face. I couldn't do it, I wasn't going to say yes if he was going to continuously pressure me like this.

I pulled my hand away from him. "No Stan." People started murmuring around us at my answer. "And don't **ever** put me on the spot like this again!" I turned and walked in the direction of the apartment.

Before Stan could come after me, I heard Kenny practically screaming, "Stan, get your ass over here **now**!"

Kenny was probably going to tear Stan a new one but I didn't care, he deserved it. I mean, he **knows** I'm scared of marriage - I've only told him ten times - but he still decided to try and pressure me into it with everyone around us. There had to be something wrong with his mindset, there just **had **to be! What kind of guy would keep proposing again and again even after two rejections with the same reasoning behind it? Damn him!

I sniffed and wiped away a single tear as I unlocked the apartment door. I slammed the door behind me and dropped onto the couch, now more angry than embarrassed. What the hell was his obsession with us getting engaged **right now**, huh? Why couldn't he just understand why I was rejecting him for now? Was his brain wired wrong? Did he just not accept "no" as a valid answer? Was I supposed to beat his goddamn skull in before he finally understood? Well, with any luck, Kenny's doing something to that effect for me.

Realizing just how angry I was getting, I took a deep breath to calm myself. Okay, no need to resort to physical violence in this situation. I might yell at him a bit when he got here, but I wasn't going to bash his skull in or anything. I was honestly surprised that thought even crossed my mind considering I promised I'd never even think of using violence against anyone I loved. Damn, Stan really must've pissed me off with his little stunt. I took another calming breath.

A few minutes later, the door slowly opened to a very sorry and ashamed looking Stan. He leaned against the locked door once he closed in and just stared at the ground. I sat up on the couch and looked at him. Oh yeah, the look on his face said that he got his ass ran over by one of Kenny's yelling lectures. (And they've gotten very loud ever since he joined the military.)

After a long moment of silence, he finally said, "Apparently…I'm a selfish jerk who doesn't listen to you, or understand you."

"Well, you are," I said pointedly. "Did Kenny tell you why you're a jerk?"

"…Because I don't listen to you, and because I pressured you by proposing to you in front of everyone after you told me exactly why you didn't want to marry me right now."

I nodded. "Yeah, that pretty much covers it."

He sighed and then finally looked at me. "I'm sorry. Yes, I acted like a jerk, and I won't pressure you ever again. It's up to you when we get married now."

My eyes widened slightly. Damn, Kenny must've seriously tore him wide open - or into tiny pieces - for his tune to change so dramatically. "…Well, maybe my cowardice is a little selfish too." I smiled and stood up off the couch. "But regardless, we don't need to be married right now." I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my head on his collarbone. "We can say that we love each other and have a good time without that. We do all the time."

"Well," Stan's hand traveled down my back and then around to my front at the top of my jeans, "let's have a good time right now." He unfastened the button of my pants.

I smirked and stepped out of my jeans when they fell around my ankles. "Sounds like fun." I brought our lips together and then jumped into his arms with my legs hooked around his waist.

He stumbled over to the couch and collapsed us onto it. We pulled at each others' clothes, desperately trying to get the other naked as his tongue easily took dominance over my mouth. Even after all this time he still tasted like cheap cigarettes and beef jerky, though I've never seen him smoke and he rarely eats beef jerky. I guess a huge football fan would say that's the taste of a star, but I didn't care, I really liked it, it was the taste of my Stan.

When we were finally naked, I stopped Stan before he could penetrate me. He sat back and asked me what was wrong. I pushed him back against the back of the couch and straddled his waist. I smirked again. "I wanna be on top."

He smirked too and then rested his hands on my hips, eager to be my guide. "My boyfriend is sitting on me with open legs. How could I refuse him?"

"Well, I'm jealous of this boyfriend of yours, though my boyfriend is always eagerly awaiting me." I arched my back and cried out as his hands pushed my waist down, sending his cock into me. My hands tightened on the top of the back couch cushions, and my cries turned to low moans when he guided my hips up and down his length, hitting my prostate with each deep thrust.

I loved that this still felt perfect and right, he still fit me so wonderfully and he filled my body with such warmth. My heart still raced and I still uttered unbidden words of love to him even after all the time we've been together; I knew then that no matter how many times we fought or how long we were together, I'd always feel this and I'd always love him. Even if we never got married, or became parents, we'd have this love…and that's we'd need.

"Oh God Stan," I moaned loudly as his thrusting became shorter and faster the closer he got to finishing, "make me come!"

"I will," he grunted.

I moved my arms to wrap and tighten around his shoulders as I pressed our bodies together. With a few more quick thrusts, I cried out and came. Right after me, I felt Stan release himself with a loud moan I matched. We were both tense for a bit more before I relaxed against him. I smiled at the feeling of his come inside me and kissed his neck.

"I'm happy you're mine Stan," I whispered to him.

One of his arms wrapped around me while the hand on his other arm tilted my face up to look at him, he was smiling too. "I'm happy you're mine Kyle." He kissed me. "I love you, forever."

"And I'll love you forever." I kissed him in return and then rested my head back on his collarbone. My eyes slipped closed with me still smiling. This was absolutely wonderful, the best end to a great night.

…

I was in me and Stan's bed when I woke up the next morning. Did he carry me all the way to the bed? I sat up and then smiled at the thought of him strolling confidently with me in his arms into the bedroom, then laying me down and falling asleep next to me. I pulled my knees to my chest and smiled contentedly, then groaned slightly. I've turned into a romantic. Wonderful…

Speaking of Stan though, where was he? I looked around and then stepped out of bed. I pulled a pair of boxers out of the dresser and skillfully pulled them on as I walked out of the room. "Stan?" I called out to the apartment.

I wandered over to the kitchen when my stomach growled, looking for something small to eat while I looked for Stan, and found a hastily scrawled note on the kitchen table from him.

_Going to the store for some stuff for a surprise dinner tonight. Be home in a bit._

_Love you,_

_Stan_

I sighed heavily and dropped the note on the table as I bit into a cereal bar. I hated when he went to the store, it always took him forever, even if he said he'd only take a little bit to get everything. I sat down at the table. I needed something to do, anything.

I grabbed my cell phone off the table and smiled. I wonder what Kenny would think of a little football game in the snow?


	18. Right Here

"_You always find the words to say/To keep me right here waiting"_

_Chapter 18: Right Here_

"A football game?" Stan asked with a raised eyebrow as he put a carton of eggs in the fridge.

I nodded from where I was still sitting at the kitchen table. "Yeah, we have to meet Kenny and Butters at Stark's Park." Kenny seemed more than happy to play a quick football game when I called him a few hours ago, and said him and Butters would meet us at the park when Stan got home.

Stan tapped his bottom lip with one finger thoughtfully and then smiled. "Sounds like fun. We haven't played a football game with those guys for a while."

"Nope, not since before Kenny left in June." I stood and grabbed his hand. "So are we leaving then?"

He nodded. "Sure."

"Great!" I pulled my cell phone out of the pocket of my blue jeans and text Butters that we were on the way to Stark's Park. "Let's go then!" I gripped onto Stan's hand and led him out to the Mustang.

"Kyle," he spun me around at the back of my classic car and leaned me back over the closed trunk before I could react, "why don't we stay right here?"

I turned light red, one leg wrapped around his waist out of habit. "Because," I shuddered as the cold from the closed trunk seeped through my jacket, "it's really cold."

"I can cure that." He bit down on my throat, I shuddered again.

"And there are kids out here," I pointed out when I heard innocent laughter.

"What?" He pushed himself up and looked over in the direction of the laughter. When his face turned red, I looked over too to see an angry-looking married couple sending a piercing glare at us with their three young kids running around them. Oops. "Uh…"

I shoved my now frozen boyfriend off of me and stood up straight. I laughed and waved at the married couple. "How're you guys today?"

Without even an answer to that, the couple rounded up their kids and darted for the minivan parked on the other end of the parking lot.

I sighed. "Jerks." Did we scare them that bad? I mean, we weren't even making out, Stan just bit down on my neck is all.

Stan chuckled and grabbed onto my hand again. He led me around to the passenger's side and gently pushed me in. When I complained, he kissed me. "I'm driving babe, don't complain."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine." I crossed my arms over my chest and then gave him a teasing look when he pouted. "Well, are we gonna go?"

He smiled again. "Of course." He shut the car door and walked around to drop into the driver's seat.

I smiled as he drove towards the park. Today was sure to be interesting; at least that's what I hoped. Things have sadly gotten very routine, and though I am grateful for it most days, there were some days I wanted something more. Some spice to each day, or at least every other day, would be nice. Even if it wasn't the "spice" I had the misfortune of experiencing a year ago, something needed to happen, I was bored. That's why I was hoping for something interesting to come out of today's football game.

Stan pointed out of the windshield when he pulled into a parking space at the park. "Is that Craig and Tweek up there?"

I looked over to where he was pointing and nodded. Yeah, that was them and it looked like Clyde, Bebe, and Wendy were there too. I stood up out of the car wondering why they were there. Just before I went to yell at them, Kenny's truck pulled up beside me with Kenny blasting the horn.

I moved my hands away from my ears when Kenny stepped out of the truck. "Dude, was that necessary?"

"Uh," Kenny looked up at the sky thoughtfully for a moment and then laughed, "no, but it **was** fun!"

I sighed heavily as Stan came walking around the Mustang tapping his head next to his ear with the heel of his hand. "Dammit Kenny, you about blew my eardrum out."

Kenny just laughed even more. Butters walked around the front of the truck smiling. "Good, everyone's here!"

"Everyone?" I looked from Kenny and Butters to where the others were standing. "So you guys invited them too?"

"Mm-hmm!" He nodded.

"You can't exactly play a good football game with four people," Kenny pointed out, "so I thought I'd invite Craig and Clyde along for the fun. Even if it is just six people, we can have a decent game. Or," he sent a teasing look at Stan, "is the high school football star scared of a little challenge?"

"Ha!" Stan pointed at where Craig and Clyde were standing with their spouses. "I can beat them," I pointed at Kenny and Butters, "and the two of you any day! Bring it on McCormick!"

"Well then, shall we test that boast?" Kenny grabbed Butters' hand. "Let's go." He walked off towards the park itself.

Stan grabbed my hand and led me right behind Kenny and Butters. As we walked, a thought occurred to me. I grabbed Stan's jacket sleeve and pulled myself closer to him. "Stan, you **might **wanna take that boast back."

"Why?" He shrugged. "I can totally take them on."

"You're not the only one who was an MVP football player all four years of high school."

"Who else was?"

"Clyde."

Stan chuckled as we reached where everyone else was and said confidently, "I want to be on the team Clyde isn't."

"Stan!" I told him about Clyde so he could **avoid** being on the opposing team! Stupid!

Clyde laughed and then smirked. "You don't know who you're challenging Marsh. I was MVP football player–"

"All four years of high school." Stan pointed at himself. "So was I."

"Well then," Clyde pointed at Stan, "you're team captain of the team against mine. My first choice of teammate is," he pointed at me, "Kyle."

I sighed deeply. Wonderful, I was getting thrown into the middle of a macho man football star battle because Clyde knew it would piss off Stan to no end that he had to face off against me. Reluctantly, I released Stan's hand and went to stand next to Clyde.

Stan ground his teeth and pointed over at Craig. "Fine! I choose Craig!" Craig stood next to Stan.

"I choose Butters." Butter came over to stand next to me, and he seemed just as enthusiastic as I was about being put in the middle of the two warring jocks.

"And I get Kenny!" Kenny sighed and went over to Stan, he too seemed just enthusiastic. (Maybe football wasn't a good idea.)

"Where's the football?" Clyde and Stan demanded at once.

Craig whistled at Tweek, who shakily threw him the worn football after a quick screech. He caught ball easily and handed it off to Stan. "Here's your ball, can we play now?"

Clyde nodded. "Goal lines. For your team Stan," he pointed towards the pond, "the sign for the pond."

"And for your team Clyde," Stan pointed towards the tree line separating the park from the road, "the first tree in that cluster."

Clyde nodded. "Okay, that's a fair and equal distance for both us. Let's go."

Both I and Butters sighed before following Clyde over to near the sign for Stark's Pond. Just this one game, we had to get through this one game with Clyde and Stan competing, (seriously, I'm crossing football off the list of things to do after today). "Hey, are we doing a point system or what?" I asked without thinking.

Suddenly, Clyde stopped and yelled across the park, "Marsh, rules of engagement?"

"Three touchdowns," Stan yelled back, "first team!"

"Gotcha!" Near the Stark's Pond sign, Clyde stopped again and faced me and Butters. "Okay, this should be an easy game. They're kicking to us first off, so all we gotta do is make sure we don't lose possession of the ball."

I looked at him skeptically. "The whole game?"

"It's only three touchdowns," he pointed out, "we can keep the ball for that long."

I shook my head but said, "If you say so…"

He looked annoyed at my skepticism, but still turned his attention to Butters. "Okay, when I catch the ball, I'll toss it off to you. Run it down the middle. Kyle, you'll run ahead and stop either Kenny or Craig; I'm not sure which will come first. I'll stop Marsh. Butters, just be sure to avoid whichever one Kyle can't get to."

Butters nodded. "Um, o-okay…"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Are you sure…?"

"Of course, trust me." Clyde put his hand out, me and Butters put ours on top of his. "Break on three. One, two, three."

"Break!" All three of us yelled at once. Easily, we moved into position, Clyde in the middle with me on his right and Butters on his left. All we had to wait for was the kick-off.

When Stan finally kicked the ball towards us, Clyde caught it and tossed it to Butters as planned while I ran forward towards Kenny, the one running towards the three of us the fastest. I stopped him and Clyde seemed to have stopped Stan, but the one little problem with Clyde's plan was that Craig easily tackled Butters to the ground.

At the sound of a short "oof" and the sound of two people hitting the ground, I backed away from Kenny and looked over at where Craig had a very red Butters pinned underneath him.

"U-Um," Butters muttered, "please get off of me now."

When Craig didn't move, Kenny stomped over to them and literally **threw** him off of his fiancé. "He said move!" Kenny yelled.

I helped Butters to his feet while Kenny was yelling. I glanced back at Craig when I was sure my friend was okay and then shook my head. Surely I didn't see a small tent shape in Craig's pants. He didn't have a hard-on, that was my imagination. It had to be.

As we were walking a bit apart from Stan's team, Butters pulled on the sleeve of my jacket. "Ky, Craig is making me nervous…"

"Why?"

"His eyes…they were full of lust and…" I looked over at Butters to see his face was bright red again. "…and I swear I felt s-something poking against my th-thigh…"

"So that wasn't my imagination," I mumbled. This could prove to be an interesting day yet, (especially if Kenny kills Craig).

"Huh?"

I shook my head. "Nothing. If it happens again, tell Kenny."

He nodded. "O-Okay…"

Clyde sighed in annoyance and joined me and Butters. "Okay, **that** didn't work like I planned it, so here's what we're gonna do next…"

We kept doing that: running Clyde's plays with none of them working for nearly an hour. I wasn't sure if it was because Clyde had lost his touch or if it was because he was letting his competition with Stan get the better of his judgment, but we didn't run a successful play until I tackled Stan to the ground only a few steps away from the goal line.

Stan chuckled and wrapped his arms around my neck. "Are you propositioning me right now babe?"

I turned light red. "What would make you say that?"

"Well, you are on top of me."

I rolled my eyes and stood up. I helped him to his feet when he pouted. "We could always do that when we get home." I winked.

He smirked and pulled me into his arms for a quick kiss. "Sounds good."

Suddenly I was yanked away from Stan by Clyde pulling at the back of my jacket. "Cavorting with the enemy?"

"I'm **dating** the 'enemy' asshole!" I pulled my jacket away from him and faced him and Butters. "So, what's our final failure of a plan?"

"How do you know for sure we'll fail?" Clyde asked like he may actually have had a decent plan in mind.

"Let's see…" I tapped my bottom lip. "They have two touchdowns and are two steps from their goal line. I do believe we're gonna lose."

"Pessimist," Clyde muttered.

"No, realist. Look, they're still on their second down and have evaded every single one of our defensive lines - with exception of that last one - there's very little chance that we can get them to a fourth down."

Butters nodded. "He's right Clyde. We…We can't win."

Clyde sighed again. "Fine. But let's at least try. Follow the ball. That's all I'm going to say on the matter."

I nodded. "Got it."

We put our hands in the middle of the small huddle once again. "Break!"

The three of us got into position and waited until Stan, Kenny, and Craig were in position too. When they ran the ball, I and Butters did as we were told and followed the person with it, Kenny. Unfortunately, he was too fast for us, when we went to tackle him, he dove forward and touched the inside of his team's goal with the ball.

"Hell yeah," Stan cheered, "I knew we'd win!"

I laughed as I helped both Butters and Kenny to their feet. "Well, though we lost epically, it was fun." I turned to Stan in time to see Clyde start yelling at him that he must've cheated. I rolled my eyes and joined Stan.

"Dude, I didn't cheat," Stan sighed. "I simply played the game and I won by a landslide because you suck at organizing your team. And if I remember correctly anyway, my high school beat the Cows while you were quarterback."

"You–"

"Hey, hey," I interrupted, "calm down Clyde. It was just a friendly game. You don't need to freak out because you lost. High school's behind us all, not everyone can remain good at something they were in the 'glory days.'"

Bebe nodded as her, Wendy, and Tweek walked up. "He's right Clyde. We need to get home though, Wendy's getting tired."

Clyde let out a heavy sigh and nodded. "Fine. Rematch another day Marsh?"

Stan shrugged. "Sure." Though he said that, it seemed like he wasn't all too thrilled about it.

When those three walked off, along with Craig and Tweek, me and Stan turned our attention back to Kenny and Butters. "Sorry about that guys," I apologized. "Maybe I shouldn't have suggested football."

"Nah," Kenny linked his hands behind his head, "I shouldn't have invited Clyde. I probably should've known he'd be overly competitive."

Stan shrugged again. "At least it made things kinda funny." He chuckled. "He's still clutching to those lost days it seems."

"Oh yeah," me and Kenny both said with a nod.

"Well," Kenny grabbed onto Butters' hand, "we have to go to the store, so we'll be off."

I grabbed onto Stan's hand and walked with him back to the Mustang. "We'll be heading home then too."

…_Later_…

I looked up from my book as Stan walked through the door without anything in his hands. I wonder what he went out for. "Stan?"

He smiled and sat down next to me on the couch. "I have a question." He slipped his arm around my shoulders and I leaned into him.

"What?"

"What would you think…if I were to have to go to boot camp in a few weeks?"

I smiled and then shrugged. "It wouldn't be a big deal. I would say that it's your choice and that you should just remember to give your boss at KFC a heads-up."

"Okay," he wrapped another arm around me, "I'll be sure to."

"Boot camp, huh?" I laughed. "That should whip you into shape real fast."

"Are you saying I'm out of shape?"

"…N-No…" I laughed even louder.

He sighed and pulled me onto his chest when he laid back. "Sure…"


	19. Fallen Angels

"_We are the in between/Cast down as sons of war/Struck to the Earth like lightening/From this world we're torn"_

_Chapter 19: Fallen Angels_

…_Six Days Later_…

I gave Kenny a brief hug and then stepped back as he shook Stan's hand. His hair was short again seeing as Butters had cut it last night so when he went back, his C.O. wouldn't wring his neck for not cutting his hair. It was hard to believe it was already time for Kenny to leave for Afghanistan, and it was obvious on both his and Butters' faces that neither wanted him to go back.

"I hate that you have to go back so soon," Stan said with an apologetic tone.

Kenny sighed and grabbed onto Butters' hand once again. "I hate that I have to leave too, but I have to." He put a hand on Stan's shoulder. "You'll know this feeling all too well soon enough."

He nodded. "I know…"

I smiled small at Kenny when he looked to me again. "I'll miss you dude. I can't wait for you to get back."

"I can't wait already either." Kenny smiled too. "I appreciate you guys coming out here so early in the morning." It was four-thirty in the morning; Stan and I were planning on going back to sleep when we returned to the apartment so we just came here in our night pants and jackets.

"We wanted to say goodbye, and that we'll miss you."

"I'll miss you guys too." He wrapped his arms around both me and Stan for a few moments. "See you guys in six months." He released us and then climbed into the driver's seat of his truck.

Butters waved at us and then climbed into the passenger's seat of the truck. We waited until they drove off before dropping back into the seats in the Mustang, Stan once again driving.

I leaned against Stan's arm and closed my eyes. "I'll miss Kenny."

"Me too babe, but at least he'll be home soon."

"Mm-hmm…" I drifted off to sleep. It really was too early in the morning to be out and about, but at least we got to say goodbye before he left again.

…_Two Days Later_…

I slipped my wallet into my back pocket as I moved for the front door. "I'm gonna go check up on Butters," I told Stan, who was sitting on the couch watching M*A*S*H.

He looked over at me confusingly. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Well, I'm a little concerned," I looked at my cell phone; still no messages, "since he hasn't responded to my text message or my call."

"Maybe he's cleaning or something."

"Maybe. But he normally answers me even if he is. I'm just gonna make sure he's okay."

"Alright." He turned back to the TV and waved absently back at me. "Pick up something for tomorrow night, okay?"

Tomorrow night? Oh yeah, tomorrow's New Years Eve. "Okay. Anything specific you want?"

"I'm not picky over my champagne. I trust your judgment."

I smiled as I opened the door. "Okay. I'll be home soon hon." I shut the door and made my way over to the Mustang.

Normally I wouldn't worry so much about Butters not answering me, even with Kenny gone, but I just had this sinking feeling. Maybe it was my imagination running wild, but every since Craig's lust for Butters was unknowingly revealed to the two of us I've been really concerned. I was sure Craig wasn't stupid enough to try anything, but after all the stupid shit our parents proved they could do; I never doubted the limitations of a person's sheer stupidity.

My heart leapt into my throat at the sight of Craig's jet black 2008 Ford Fusion parked behind Kenny's truck. This was just a friendly visit, I told myself, that's all. I threw the Mustang into park and stepped out of the car. I walked over to the door and grabbed the spare key from the fake rock sitting next to the door, (Kenny never did understand that the fake rock only worked when it was surrounded by other rocks).

I unlocked the door and swung it open. "Butters? Are you…okay…?" I froze at the sight in front of me.

Butters, wrists bound with thin rope and a dish towel gagging him, was on his elbows and knees with Craig slamming into him and tears rolling down his face. What the…?

"What the fuck are you doing to him?" I screamed as loud as my lungs would allow.

Both Craig and Butters looked over at me. Butters with relief in his eyes, Craig with a simple "oh shit" in his. Craig pulled out of Butters and scooped his clothes up as I stomped towards him.

"I know this looks bad Broflovski," he said quickly, "but I promise you that Butters was being fucked willingly."

"Bullshit!" I screamed. I lashed out with my fist, connecting hard with his jaw and sending him stumbling back into the couch. "If it was willing, **why** was he bound and gagged, and crying?"

He smirked and said like it was viable excuse, "I'm just bigger than McCormick it seems."

"Ha!" I kicked his still erect cock, sending him to the ground in pain. I crouched down in front of him. "I've seen Kenny's so let me assure you, he's much bigger. Now get the fuck outta here before I kill you myself."

After another moment, Craig let out a pained grunt and pulled on his boxers before grabbing the rest of his clothes and darting out the door. Stupid bastard. As much as I wanted to kill his dumb ass, I would save that pleasure for Kenny.

I turned back to Butters, now sitting up with the towel out of his mouth and his knees pulled up to his chest, sobbing. My face softened at the sight of him. I wish I'd gotten here earlier, this might not have happened at all. I knelt down in front of him and gently grabbed his hands.

When he tensed at the touch, I said softly, "I'm not gonna hurt you Butters, okay? I'm gonna just cut these ropes off of your wrists."

He nodded and I pulled my pocket knife out of my front pocket and cut through the thin ropes easily. Once the ropes fell to the ground, Butters threw his arms around me and bawled into my jacket.

I wrapped my arms carefully around him to find that he was shaking harder and harder with each sob that escaped him. A few tears of my own fell from my eyes at his situation. Being raped was the worst feeling in the world, though I was glad I got here before Craig could finish so that Butters didn't have to experience that. "Oh Butters…" I muttered to him.

"I…I tried to f-fight him, I-I really did!" He sobbed. "He…He was j-just…"

"Too strong," I quietly finished for him, "I know." I gently rubbed his back as he continued to sob. There was nothing I could say that would make him feel any less shitty or any less like it was his fault. All I could do was sit here and hold him until he either stopped crying or just cried himself to sleep, (I cried myself to sleep the first time Eric raped me).

We sat there for a bit longer with him sobbing until he finally sat back on his knees and attempted to wipe his eyes of his tears. "K-Kyle…I-I…I'm s-sorry…"

"For what?" What did he possibly have to be sorry for?

"That you h-had to see me like this… I had r-really hoped no one except Ken w-would ever have to see m-me cry."

I shook my head. "That's nothing to apologize for Butters. And there's no shame in letting someone close to you see your tears. I just hate that I'm telling you this with…what happened…"

Butters nodded and wiped away more tears. "Ky," the fact that he switched back to my nickname relieved me a bit, "I hate to ask this, and I feel like a jerk for asking, but I could I…s-stay with you and Stan for tonight? I'm just a little s-scared that Craig…"

I nodded and helped him up. "Of course. Hell, stay for two nights and join us for New Years."

"Really?"

I smiled. "Yeah. I know Stan wouldn't care, so why not?"

He smiled a bit too and grabbed his boxers off the floor. "Thank you," he kissed my cheek, "so much." He slipped his underwear on and made his way for his bedroom.

I sat on the couch with my arms crossed over my chest. I wasn't going to tell Kenny yet; the last thing he needed to be worrying about was what was going on here. But the minute I saw him in late May or early June - he wasn't sure when - I would tell him and officially release Craig's death warrant.

…

Shock and astonishment covered Stan's face at what I told him, the reason why Butters was staying with us for a few days. Since Butters was using the shower, I decided it would be best to tell Stan what was going on and what had happened.

"Craig…he actually…?"

I nodded and looked down at my hands, linked in front of me on the kitchen table. "Yes. I…I saw it…"

Stan ran one hand through his hair. "I would've never thought Craig would **ever** rape anyone, especially Butters. He has to know that he's going to die when Kenny gets back."

I nodded. "I'm sure he does. He's the only person who has ever dared to do anything to Butters for years too. This won't be overlooked."

"Really? No one's messed with Butters?"

"Yeah. The last guy who did was hospitalized and didn't say anything to the cops because he was afraid Kenny would come back and kick his ass again. That was our junior year of high school."

"Wow…so Craig really is gonna die."

I nodded again. "Yeah. There's no doubt in my mind about that." I looked back up at Stan. "But he deserves every bit of torture that he gets."

Stan nodded too. "I agree."

I sighed silently as Butters entered the kitchen. All I had to do was figure out how to break something like this to Kenny. I had six months until he returned, but I knew it would take that entire time to find the easiest way to tell him the man he loved was raped by someone they both trusted.


	20. Breathe No More

"_All the little pieces falling, shatter/Shards of me, too sharp to put back together/Too small to matter/But big enough to cut me into/So many little pieces"_

_Chapter 20: Breathe No More_

…_New Years Eve_…

I hooked my arm in Butters' as we entered the liquor store to get something for tonight. I would've come last night, but with Butters crying and Stan failing at comforting him, I ended up holding him until he fell asleep; by that time the liquor store was closed. I got lucky when he didn't wake up in the same state this morning, and I figured he wouldn't want to be alone with Stan so I asked him if he wanted to come to the liquor store with me for the champagne for tonight.

"Anything you like in particular?" I asked him as we stopped in front of the champagne.

He shrugged. "I don't…really drink…"

I raised an eyebrow. "Really?" I would've thought being around Kenny would've seriously influenced that part of him at least to the point where he'd drink, well, maybe not a lot, but just more than he did in high school - not very much at all.

He nodded. "Yeah, I don't d-drink a lot…when me and Kenny do, i-it's normally for some special o-occasion."

"Well," I grabbed a bottle, "New Years Eve is a special occasion. Drink a bit tonight! Besides, you need it." I smiled at him.

He rubbed his knuckles together, an old habit from our childhood. "Yeah…I do, huh?" He looked at me with wide, almost scared eyes. "It's okay though?"

I blinked a bit out of confusion. He was asking if it was okay for him to drink after I was the one to suggest it to him? After a few moments I nodded. "Yeah, it's okay." I guess yesterday reversed a great deal of the progress Kenny had made with Butters' confidence and self-esteem. This was going to be an interesting six months.

He smiled a bit. "Okay."

I grabbed another bottle and then gestured towards the register. "Well, let's go. We need to get back before Stan starts wondering what's taking us so long to get some alcohol."

He nodded and grabbed onto my arm again as I made my way towards the register. I felt bad for him and all, but I did wonder when he was going to stop being clingy, he's twenty-one acting like he did at thirteen. I paid for the alcohol and led Butters back out to the Mustang.

"Hey, hold this," I told him as I handed him the paper bag with the two champagne bottles in it. I started the car up and pulled out of the liquor store parking lot to go back to the apartment.

Most of the ride back was silent, but as I pulled into the apartment parking lot, Butters spoke: "Ky, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I put the car in park in my space and looked over at him.

He hugged the bag to his chest. "…Do you think…God h-hates me?"

"Butters…why would you say that?"

"Because whenever I finally think life isn't g-going to kick my ass anymore, something happens." He glanced over at me for a moment. "Junior year, that guy tried to kill me, and now that…C-Craig…"

I reached over and grabbed his arm reassuringly. "God doesn't hate you Butters. Things happen, life screws you over, but it doesn't mean that God hates you. Things will be okay."

"It doesn't f-feel like it…"

My arms slipped around Butters' shoulders. "I know it doesn't, but trust me, things get better and when it does, you will realize that every time you were screwed over by something or someone was just another crack in the road. Trust me."

He looked over at me and smiled a bit. That seemed to have worked. "Thanks Ky."

I smiled too. "It's no problem." I quickly grabbed the bag and stuck my tongue out at him when he gave me a confused look. "Na-na-na boo-boo. Stick your head in doo-doo."

At the confused look Butters gave me, I laughed and jumped out of the car with him not far behind me. I ran for the door in time to hear him start laughing and running after me too. Who would've guessed something a comedian on TV said would be the thing to finally make him smile?

…

"…Three…Two…One!" Me, Stan, and Butters clinked our glasses together. "It's a new year!"

I sloshed the champagne into my mouth and then smiled. Not the best stuff I've ever had, but it wasn't the worst either. Stan asked me and Butters what we wanted out of the new year.

"Well," Butters smiled into his glass, "I just want Kenny home safe."

I smiled at Butters' words. So selfless, unlike… "I would like to get married," Stan muttered before he drank more of his champagne.

I ground my teeth together and growled just slightly. Really? He had to bring that up again? "And I'd like Stan to just shut up about marriage for at least a month."

Stan opened his mouth to say something else, but Butters quickly said, "Hey, why don't we w-watch a movie guys? Or, uh…get something to eat?"

I nodded. "Good idea Butters," I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and walked towards the kitchen, "I'll help you make something."

In the kitchen, I sighed and threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave. If Stan kept this up I was sure I was going to go crazy. Oh well, I guess I'd get that bit of silence on the matter when Stan went to basic training - I'm not sure why he keeps calling it boot camp - next week.

…_The Next Day_…

"Are you sure about this?" I asked Butters through the window of the Mustang as he went to the front door of his house. He had insisted on dropping him off this morning since had spent the past two days with me and Stan, (it was probably also because things were tense between me and Stan after he mentioned marriage last night). I was willing to drop him off but I was still worried that Craig would show up.

He nodded. "I'll be f-fine. I'll just be sure to l-lock the door."

"Okay," I sighed. "Get the spare key out of the fake rock too."

"I will. S-See ya later Ky."

"See ya Butters." I rolled up the window and waited until he was in the house before pulling out of the driveway and going in the direction of the supermarket. It was time to go grocery shopping again and I had to go since Stan had to work again - that's the bad thing about New Years Day, everyone had to work since everywhere was busy as hell.

I pulled into the supermarket parking lot and sighed. There were no parking spots, just great. Guess it's to be expected with it being the beginning of the year though. I drove around for a bit more before finally finding a parking spot; I whipped the Mustang into the spot before anyone else could drive up. I stepped out of the car and locked it before I ran to the automatic door of the supermarket.

This place was fucking crazy! People were everywhere, and, almost as if to be expected, people were yelling at each other. I grabbed a cart and sighed again. I hated grocery shopping on days like today, but it had to get done or we wouldn't have anything to eat.

I practically ran through the supermarket trying to get everything before I saw anyone I knew or someone stopped to yell at me for something or another, (I've been yelled at for some stupid shit before too). Doing that, I managed to get everything I needed in record time and went to stand in line for the register.

I groaned and leaned against the cart. This was the only reason I hated shopping on major holidays. Freaking line! After a few minutes, I had moved up enough to grab a newspaper. I never bought one, just read the comic section…while…waiting… With wide eyes, I flipped the newspaper open at the sight of the headline. That **couldn't** be right!


	21. Falls On Me

"_And all of your weight/All you dream/Falls on me"_

_Chapter 21: Falls on Me_

CONVICTED RAPIST ESCAPES MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON

"_Eric Cartman, 21, was convicted on multiple counts of spousal abuse and rape, and two counts of attempted murder just over a year ago. He was given a life sentence. Late last night, his cell was found empty and no one claims to have any idea of how he escaped. Police and S.W.A.T. units are looking everywhere for him before they believe he can reach the mountain town of South Park, where Cartman's…"_

I stopped reading the article and looked at Eric's mug-shot in the center of the article. Underneath the picture simply said his name and what he was convicted of. Curious, I read on, finding only information on how the police and S.W.A.T. teams are handling the situation. The end of the article read:

"…_Though police don't believe Cartman is armed, he is to be seen as highly dangerous. Should anyone see him, they are to contact local law enforcement immediately."_

I put the newspaper on the conveyer belt along with the groceries - guess I put those on the belt while I was reading the paper. I flinched at the sound of glass breaking and looked over at where a woman was apologizing to an employee for dropping a jar. I sighed deeply and gripped at my jacket where my heart was pounding in my chest. I was already jumpy and I just learned Eric escaped. This wasn't good; I was probably going to have a heart attack before he got to me.

"Are you okay, sir?" The cashier asked me with concern lacing her voice.

I looked over at her and smiled. "Sorry, I just got startled."

She chuckled and started scanning everything. "Yeah, that happens a lot during the holiday rushes. You get used to it after a while." She stopped when she grabbed the newspaper. "That's awful how this man escaped, and that he's heading here."

I put another bag into the cart and nodded. "It is."

"I feel sorry for his ex-husband," I looked at her from the keypad once I swiped my debit card, "he has to be so scared right now."

My eyes dropped back to the pad. "Yeah…I'm sure he is." I quickly typed my pin number in and took the receipt when she held it out to me. "Thank you."

She smiled. "You're welcome. Have a good day."

I put on a small fake smile. "I will."

I practically ran out of the supermarket all the way to my car. Okay, so maybe I was overreacting a bit. Eric escaped last night and the maximum security prison is across the state, it would take him at least a week to get here if he's not caught by that S.W.A.T. team first. I froze at that thought, nearly dropping the eggs when I did.

"Crap!" I caught the bag with the eggs in it and sighed in relief. "I almost dropped breakfast," I said nervously.

I placed the eggs in the trunk and then grabbed the newspaper out of the bag it was put in before shutting the trunk. I shoved the cart into the cart catcher near the Mustang and then quickly went back to the car. I started the car and dropped the newspaper in the passenger's seat. I had to show this to Stan. Now. Screw that he was at work; he needed to know what was going on!

Easily, I pulled the Mustang out of the parking spot and whipped it from the parking lot, earning a couple of middle fingers from the car I pulled out in front of. Oh well, nothing new.

Minutes later, I pulled the car into the KFC parking lot. I jumped out of the car with the newspaper in hand and ran for the door. With the exception of a few people, the place was empty and, lucky for me; Stan was on a front register today. And oh did he look thrilled to be there!

"Stan!" I ran over to him, skidding to a stop in front of his register.

He blinked in surprise. Can't really blame him, I rarely visit him at work. "K-Kyle? What're you doing here?"

I slapped the newspaper onto the counter. "Have you seen the headline in the newspaper today?"

"I haven't gotten my break yet, so I haven't been able to read the newspaper today."

"Well look at it now!"

"Kyle, I'm working."

"Look at the damn paper Stan!"

He laughed slightly. "Okay, okay, if it's that important, I'll look at the newspaper." He sighed and grabbed the newspaper from the counter; his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates at the sight of the headline. "Kyle…this…can't be real…"

"It is Stan." I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from shaking. "They wouldn't just print something like this for shits and giggles."

He placed the paper back on the counter and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shit. I guess it's good that the prison is across the state." Our eyes met. "Even if, somehow, the S.W.A.T. team doesn't get him, it'll take him at least–"

"A week to get here," I finished for him before leaning over the counter. "Stan, you leave for basic next week. What if he gets here when you're gone?"

He placed one hand over mine. "Don't worry Kyle. Cartman has **S.W.A.T.** after him. The chance that he'll actually make it here is minimal. Most likely, he'll be caught and thrown right back in that cell before I even leave for basic."

I looked down at our hands. "I would love to believe that, I really would, but I know just how manipulative and…sneaky he can be. I'm **really** scared he's gonna make it here!"

He shook his head. "Don't worry, okay? I'll protect you."

"But what if he gets here when you're gone?"

"There are people all over town willing to protect you. If I'm gone and he arrives, go to someone and they'll keep you safe. I promise he won't hurt you."

My lips tightened into a straight line. I loved that he was promising that I'd be okay and safe, but there was this part of me that was screaming that once Stan left, everything was going to go so far downhill that I'd actually pass Hell. Nothing about this situation was going to be okay, I somehow knew that Eric was going to make it here and that he was going to kill me when he did. I shook a bit and pulled my hand away from Stan's.

He leaned over the counter to meet my eyes. "Kyle?"

I stepped back and away from the counter. "I need to get home. I left the groceries in the trunk."

His face was full of concern and I think he wanted to try to comfort me as much as he could while working, but he just nodded and said, "Okay. We're not done talking about this though. When I get home tonight…"

I nodded. "I know." I pecked his cheek when I was sure no one was looking. "I love you."

"I love you too. See you at home."

I turned and left, leaving the newspaper there for him to read on his break. I know that he believed everything he said, and I wanted to too, but it was just so hard. And I hated that I couldn't believe my own boyfriend's words of protection and safety, but after everything Eric put me through, I just had a hard time believing that he was just going to let everything go and let me live without even a few major injuries.

Okay, so maybe I was overreacting, maybe I'd get lucky and Eric would avoid coming here just to avoid an evitable re-arrest and possibly a death sentence. Surely he just wanted his freedom; he would **actually** come to where the police and S.W.A.T. were anticipating him to. He wouldn't be that stupid.

At least, that's what I'd like to believe; I know better though. Eric was going to come here and he was going to try to kill me and Stan. All I could hope was that at least Butters would be spared of it, I mean, surely he'd stay out of the way. The last thing I would want Kenny to have to come home for would be Butters' death.

I sighed deeply as I stopped in my parking space in front of the apartment. Shit. I rested my forehead on the steering wheel. **Was** I overreacting? I probably wasn't since the last time I saw Eric, he was only trying to **kill** Stan and me with a goddamn baseball bat. "He's gonna kill me," I muttered. "I'm gonna die…"

I sighed again and threw open the door. "I need to calm down!" I slammed the door shut and popped the trunk. "Nothing's gonna happen, I'll be fine!" I yelled at myself.

"Mommy," I looked over at a kid pointing at me with his mother staring at me, "why's that man talking to himself?"

"It's rude to point dear." The woman quickly grabbed her son and ran for their apartment.

I sighed once again and shook my head as I grabbed all of the groceries. I really need to stop scaring the neighbors. I shut the trunk and ran over to the apartment door before I could scare yet another neighbor.

Inside, I put the groceries up and sank down to the couch with dread and despair welling inside of me. I hated feeling this way again; it felt the same as when I first started seeing Stan while I was still married to Eric, when I still completely feared being caught. It really sucked how much things can turn around in only a year. First things had changed for the better: I had gone from being afraid I was going to get hit if I made a wrong move to constantly smiling and actually being happy. Now I was afraid that if I rounded the wrong corner, Eric was going to be there was a handgun cocked and ready to shoot me.

"Music," I said suddenly, "I need music!" I jumped up off the couch and grabbed the remote off of the end table on the other side. I sat back on the couch and turned on the Music Choice: Rock station in time for a Three Days Grace song to Since October's _"Life of Mine."_ I sighed. Perfect song to start playing, just perfect!

Regardless, I kicked my legs up onto the couch and laid back to just stare at the ceiling. I didn't want to be in fear for the rest of my life, or until Eric found me, but I didn't feel like there was anything I could really do other than sit here and wait to die. So that brought up the question: What now?


	22. Time and Time Again

"_Over and over it breaks my heart"_

_Chapter 22: Time and Time Again_

I stirred awake when I was gently being shaken. I looked up at Stan, who also looked like he just woke up from our nap.

When Stan got off work, we talked about the situation concerning Eric's escape for a few hours until I fell asleep in his lap. Guess he must've fallen asleep too.

I yawned and stretched a bit. "What time is it?"

"About two in the morning," he yawned.

I stood from his lap in order to help him to his feet as well. "Let's go to bed then."

He nodded and wrapped an arm around my waist. I leaned against him as he led me to the bedroom. We both stripped down to our boxers and, as I lay down to sleep, he slowly laid on top of me and slowly kissed me.

I smiled into the kiss as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He felt so warm and welcoming, and I felt so much more love tonight than ever before. God, I wanted him so badly right now! I reached down for the waistband of Stan's boxers in time for his head to collapse down on my shoulder.

"What the…?" I looked over at the side of his sleeping face. Dammit, I really wanted sex tonight. I needed to be close to him just to reassure myself that I would have him by my side forever, and that nothing could hurt me. I sighed before I flipped him off of me. I rested my head on his chest and slipped my eyes closed to go back to sleep. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

I let out a relieved sigh and cuddle closer to Stan's chest and side. I was really going to miss him when he left for basic. With that last thought in mind, I drifted off to sleep.

…

_I opened my eyes alone in a darkened room. I sat up and looked around. I couldn't see a damn thing. What time was it? I stood and moved for the door. "Stan? Where are you?"_

_Just as I reached for the doorknob, something around my torso tightened against my stomach just before there was the sound of chains jingling together. Having not expected the sudden restriction, I fell back onto my butt with a grunt._

"_What the hell?" I reached back, my fingers wrapped around a thick chain. What was __**this**__? What the hell was Stan doing to me? "Stan! This isn't fucking funny! Let me out of this goddamn chain!"_

_The door in front of me opened and I had to block the sudden rush of bright light with my arm. A large figure blocked the light though; I looked up at the figure blinking. That wasn't Stan's form; it was too large to be Stan._

"_Who are you?" I yelled at the figure. "Answer me now!"_

"_My, my," the figure's voice said menacingly, "how cocky we've become this past year, eh Kahl?"_

_My eyes widened at the pronunciation of my name. I hadn't heard that voice say my name like that in a year. I scrambled back towards the bed and pressed back against the edge. No…that can't be him, it can't be! "E-Eric?"_

_Eric crouched down in front of me, his face becoming clear as the light from the other room flooded this room. "You're a fucking genius. But I guess that's why you're in college."_

_I pressed my back against the edge of the bed as hard as I could, sending the bed scraping back a bit. "W-Where's Stan?"_

_He smirked wildly and grabbed my throat, my hands immediately darted up to grab his wrist in a futile effort to get him to let me go. "Why don't you see for yourself?" He yanked me up and turned me around to look at the opposite wall._

_On that wall was Stan, kitchen knives pinned him there by his elbows, wrists, and thighs, while the butcher's knife usually hidden away in a drawer was driven through his heart. His eyes were gouged out and lying on the floor under his body. Blood ran from every stab wound that riddled his body, as well as from his eye sockets and his mouth, open wide with horror._

_Tears flooded my eyes at the sight and as the reeking stench of the corpse of my beloved pinned to the wall hit me._

_I screamed._

…

My eyes snapped open as I screamed bloody murder. That horrifying image of Stan's bleeding, pinned corpse was stuck in my mind's eye. Beside me, Stan jumped awake.

"Kyle?" He yelled at me. His arms wrapped around me and held me against him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

I shook as the nightmare flashed in my mind once again. "I…I had a nightmare…you were…" I slipped out of his arms and ran to the bedroom door. "I have to go to the bathroom!"

"Kyle, come back here!"

I ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I looked at myself in the mirror, half expecting there to actually be a metal restraint around my torso attached to a thick chain. My hand traveled to my left side where the gash used to be and gently ran my fingertips over the phantom wound. That nightmare brought forth some better forgotten memories. My hand moved to the four scars on my left cheek and I sighed. I hated this feeling of absolute dread that had taken me over, and I wished it would just go away so that I could go back to sleep without worrying about another terrifying nightmare overcoming me.

I jumped and looked over at the door as Stan began to bang on it. "Kyle, open the door! Tell me what's wrong!"

I sighed deeply and answered the door after a few more moments. "Stan…"

"Kyle, what is it?"

I threw my arms around him and sobbed. "I…I had a nightmare, and Eric, he…he killed you!" I wasn't going to describe how he was killed; I didn't want to revisit that.

His arms slipped around me. "Oh Kyle…" He gently rubbed my back. "I'm okay love, I'm okay. I'm right here. Cartman can't hurt me; he can't hurt either of us. He's not here, he's nowhere **near** here." He lifted my head so I could look at his eyes. "Okay?"

I sniffed and nodded. "Okay." I smiled slightly as he picked me up bridal style and carried me back into the bedroom.

"Let's go back to bed," he muttered to me as he kissed my forehead.

My arm slipped around his neck while he carried me, not letting him go when he lowered me to the bed. He laughed and told me to let his neck go so that he could lie down too, but I shook my head and kissed him. I wanted him again, more desperately than I had earlier.

"Stan," I planted a soft kiss on his neck, "please take me."

He moaned slightly and pressed his body down against mine. He connected our lips once again. "Gladly," he breathed out.

His tongue snaked into my mouth as we both slipped out of our boxers and dropped them to the floor. My arms slid around him, locking there while I gently pushed my hips against his eagerly. God, I needed him!

In response to grinding my hips against his, his hands traveled down to the back of my thighs and pushed them up so that my knees were touching my chest. His tip prodded at my entrance for a few moments before he pushed himself inside of me. I arched my back and moaned at the feeling as he moved back and forth in me.

"Oh Stan," I breathed, "please h-harder…"

Stan complied with my wish and thrust harder, and even deeper, into me, hitting my prostate with each forward push. I gripped at the sheets and cried out, able to hear the lust in my own voice as I called Stan's name and begged him for more.

This friction I felt with him inside me was something I needed, something I had craved for all night. Feeling him there silently - maybe not entirely silently - told me that he was there for me, and that I wouldn't have to be alone ever again. I wasn't alone…I had Stan with me forever.

My arms wrapped around him and held him against my front as I spasmed, releasing my load with a short cry. My nails dug into his shoulder blades as his thrusts began shorter and more sporadic with him nearing his breaking point too.

Finally, Stan buried his length inside of me and released himself. He panted as I felt his cock pulsing inside before he collapsed on top of me. That felt great! But sex always felt absolutely wonderful with Stan, I never felt like he was just going through the motions. He actually enjoyed making love to me, and that made me happy.

"Thank you Stan," I said to him as my eyes closed once again.

He chuckled and kissed my jaw. "You're thanking me? No 'I love you?'"

I chuckled too and tightened my arms around him. "I do love you, but I'm thanking you because," a tear fell from my eye, "I really needed to know you were still here."

He pulled out of me and then flipped us so that I was lying on his chest. "Of course I'm still here." His hands rested on my lower back. "I'll always be here."

I relaxed against him. "I'm so happy to hear that." As I heard Stan telling me to dream of him when I slept this time, I smiled and let the soft waves take me to a more peaceful sleep.


	23. Dear God

"_Dear God, the only thing I ask of you/Is to hold her when I'm not around/When I'm much too far away"_

_Chapter 23: Dear God_

…_A Week Later_…

I looked sadly at Stan as he emerged from our bedroom with a rucksack in his hand. "Are you sure you have everything?" I asked just to be certain.

He nodded and slid the strap of the digital style rucksack up to his shoulder. "I don't need much." His face had dropped from the state of excitement it had held only minutes ago to now hold a look of depression. He didn't want to go and I didn't want him to go, but that couldn't be helped. Stan had to leave for basic training today.

I walked over to him and slipped my arms around his torso, my head rested on his collarbone. "I'm gonna miss you everyday."

He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face into my hair. "And I'll miss you."

"And guess what."

"What?"

"When you get back, I'll be waiting for you with wide open legs."

"That's definitely something to look forward to!" He laughed and tightened his arms around me. "…We should go. My plane leaves at noon."

"…Yeah…"

Reluctantly, he released me from his arms and grabbed onto my hand. I lead him out to the Mustang and shook my head when he offered to drive. I didn't feel that he needed to drive to the airport in order to catch a plane to get to basic training. I dropped into the driver's seat and pulled out of the parking lot, driving towards Denver.

As I drove, Stan rested one hand on my knee. I smiled and grabbed onto his hand, linking our fingers together between the two seats. I would miss the simple physical contact I felt here and now while he was gone. I could only hope that the weeks he was to be gone went by quickly. I already couldn't wait for him to be back home.

"Stan," I said before he could reach for the radio, "you don't think Eric is gonna make it here, do you?" Even with all of the reassuring words I had been given last night, I was still extremely scared that Eric was going to somehow get to South Park and kill me while Stan was at basic. And seeing as he managed to slip past S.W.A.T. the past week, that fear was starting to seem like it might become a reality.

He didn't answer me right away, making the silence in the car heavy. At last, he said, "I wanna say that he's not gonna make it here, and that I know you'll be okay…but…dammit Kyle, I just don't know. Honestly, it's very much possible that he could make it here, and, as much as it pains me to say this, he could kill you."

I sucked in a sharp breath and held it to prevent myself from hyperventilating. That wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear. I wanted to continue to hear those reassuring words that told me I'd be perfectly safe and that Eric wasn't going to make it here. The words that said either the police or S.W.A.T. would catch up to him just in time, and that he wouldn't even make it to Park County. It seemed those reassuring words were lost to reality now…and I didn't want them to be. My hand tightened around Stan's with pure fear, his tightened around mine too.

"I'm sorry Kyle, but that's just the reality of it. I do wanna reassure you, but reality's a big fat bitch and we can't continue to turn away from her any longer." He sighed deeply. "While I'm gone, there is a strong possibility that Cartman will make it to South Park and try to kill you, and anyone who might be protecting you. I hate to say it, but…we both know it's true."

"But Stan," I muttered sadly, "I don't want that to be reality. Eric needs to be captured so that he can't hurt me or anyone else."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod. "I know what **needs** to happen, but what's actually going to occur might be the opposite of what needs to be done. And I'm sorry, but it can't be sugar-coated anymore."

"…Do you think, knowing the very real danger, there will still be people in town willing to help me?"

"Well…I know there's at least one person."

"Who?"

"Butters. I know he may not be a good choice for a protector, but he did say that he was willing to help you a few days ago."

I nodded, remembering his words:

"_Ky, I know this may not seem like, well, the best idea in the world, but listen to me. If Eric shows up, just come to me. I know I'm not strong but I'll protect you with my life. …Because you're like the brother I never had."_

I sighed a bit as I exited onto the interstate. "Yeah, I know he's willing to protect me, I just hate to put **him** in that kind of danger. What would Kenny think?"

"I think," Stan said with a half-smile, "Kenny would be proud to know that Butters is willing to stand against someone stronger than all of us to protect someone he cares for. But, at the same time, I do believe he'd be strongly against it."

I chuckled. That's probably exactly how Kenny would feel on the matter too. I glanced over as Stan raised my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. "What was that for?"

"Just because. Besides," he leaned against my shoulder, "we won't have this for a while. Just let me enjoy it, and let me have something to keep me going while I'm away."

My face turned light red, and I smiled. "Okay, and you're right."

"I'm always right," he laughed.

I moved my arm to wrap around him and then playfully smacked his hip. "Yeah, right," I chuckled.

…

I never thought watching someone walk away would be so sad.

It's always shown in the movies, the girlfriend or wife of the soldier standing there about to cry as their beloved walks towards the plane, but I always thought it was dramatized. Okay, so maybe **I'm** overreacting to Stan getting on the plane to go to basic, he wasn't going into combat like Kenny did a few weeks ago, just going to Carolina for basic. Yet here I am, standing on the edge of the concourse - as far as I can legally go - getting ready to cry my eyes out at the sight of him leaving. God, I can only imagine what kind of mess I'll be in when he actually has to leave for combat!

When he was out of sight, I sat down near one of the windows so I could watch his plane take off, and looked at the piece of paper he left me. It was the number for the base he was going to for basic training, just in case of an emergency, (in this case, the emergency being Eric's return to South Park).

I slid the phone number into my pocket and looked up to see women telling their husbands and boyfriends goodbye for probably the same reason - guessing this by the looks on their faces - along with a few men bidding farewell to girlfriend or wives. Some of the women were actually crying, so at least I could say I hadn't gotten to the breakdown phase quite yet, (I might hit that in the car though).

I wasn't sure how much longer I was sitting there for, but while I was messing with my cell phone, the final boarding call for Stan's flight was called. I put my phone back into my pocket and watched; I waited until I was sure the right plane was trafficking down the runway before I turned and left.

Stan was gone; I wouldn't see him for over a month. I didn't like that thought one bit.

I dropped into the driver's seat of the Mustang and wiped away a few tears that started to fall. No, I wasn't going to cry now; I could save that for when I made it home, but not here. I wasn't going to let a bunch of strangers see me cry at the goddamn international airport!

With that thought in mind, I pulled the car out of the parking garage and drove for South Park with Three Days Grace blasting out of the speakers the entire way.

…

I sighed when I finally pulled into my parking space at the apartment building. It was weird coming home without Stan being here or at least knowing that he'd be home a few hours after me. Well, I suppose I should get used to it.

I cut the engine and stepped out of the Mustang, the cold air hit me instantly, making goosebumps rise on my exposed flesh. But at the same time, a shiver ran down my spine. I wasn't sure if it was the cold or just a bad feeling, but either way, I slammed the car door shut and ran for the door of the apartment.

Upon putting the key in the lock, I stopped, suddenly getting a feeling that made my stomach turn. I looked around me to see if there was any sign of danger around. When I didn't see anything, I sighed. I guess knowing Stan wasn't going to be here just made me more paranoid than usual. I think I'll go take a bath to relax…

I opened the door and stepped inside to find a less cold chill in the apartment. Crap, I knew I should've left the heater on. I flipped on the light so I could see better and suddenly found myself pinned to the wall by the back of my throat.

"What the fuck?" I glanced back to see brown hair and brown eyes I haven't seen in over a year. I eyes widened with fear. "E-Eric?"

Eric laughed and then grabbed the back of my head. "Damn right, you whore." He bashed my face into the wall and then threw me to the ground. Just like before, I felt blood running down my face from my nose.

I started to scramble backwards towards the kitchen so I could have something to defend myself with, but he jumped on top of me, stopping me. Before I could stop him, his fist collided with my temple and I went limp.

The last thing I can recall his him laughing, "You're mine again…and this time, you won't escape."


	24. Tragedy

_"It's tragedy/When the morning cries/And you don't know why"_

_Chapter 24: Tragedy_

I ended up finally opening my eyes when a bucket's worth of ice cold water was dumped onto me. I went to wipe my face of the cold but I found my hands bound by my wrists behind my back. I struggled hoping that the ropes I could feel holding me were weak or at least poorly tied, but it was no use. I gave up after only a minute.

Behind me, someone cackled. I turned over from how I had been left on my left side on the wooden floor to see a big woman with long blonde hair and green eyes, ruby red lipstick drew attention to her lips. "A-Are you with Eric?" I asked hesitantly.

She laughed. "No dumbass," that woman had Eric's voice, (what the hell?), "I am Eric." He pulled the blonde wig off of his head and took out one contact to show his usual brown iris.

I just stared at him in utter surprise for half a minute before finally speaking: "Why are you in drag?" (Maybe not the best question I could ask considering my captivity, but I **had** to know!)

Eric sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes, being sure to take out the other contact and wipe off the lipstick. "How do you think I managed to get here without being caught? I had a fucking **S.W.A.T.****team** after me, I had to do something! Luckily," he unzipped the light green jacket he had on and dropped it to the ground next to me, losing the fake boobs and a forth of the "fat" contained in the body suit, "I ran into an old friend who actually wanted me to return."

"Old friend?" I scoffed and, after a bit of a struggle with the bonds around my wrists and ankles, sat up. "No one here liked you, and you know it."

He ground his teeth together; he squatted in front of me and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at his face, which now held the scars of numerous prison fights. "Well, maybe no one **used** to like me, but it seems you've made an enemy."

"An enemy? Who?" I couldn't think of anyone I'd pissed off enough for them to actually aid Eric's return to South Park. Hell, everyone was happy when his fat ass got locked up.

"One Craig Tucker." He smirked when my eyes widened. (Craig hated me? I mean, I knew he wasn't going to be my number one fan after I stopped him while he was raping Butters, but I didn't think he'd hate me.) "He managed to find me and helped me adopt an identity as a lonely French woman, Jacqueline. To South Park, I am a woman from France," his voice went up and octave and he suddenly had a French accent, "who is trying to escape her overbearing ex-husband by hiding away in a Colorado mountain town no one would be able to find."

"And **what** did everyone think when 'Jacqueline' was dragging an unconscious me into her house?"

Eric laughed maniacally, his voice back to normal. "Nothing. You see Craig's family own a cabin in the mountains that they don't use in the winter. Until the spring, we're allowed to stay here. But when spring comes, if you're still breathing, 'Jacqueline' and her new beau will be moving back to France."

No! I wasn't going anywhere with him! Not ever! "No."

"No?"

"I'm not going to France with you!" I swung both legs up to try and kick him in the face, but he caught my ankles and flipped me onto my stomach. I groaned when the pain hit me. That hurt…

"You don't have a choice. …Now, onto more pressing matters." He dangled a scrap of paper in front of my face. "Whose number is this?"

I read the number and tightened my lips. It was the number for the base Stan was at for basic. It was the emergency line, a number I was given to use in the event of a tragedy that I needed to contact Stan about. (I'd say this was an emergency, though I can't exactly get to a phone right now.) "Why do you wanna know?"

He grabbed a fistful of my hair and smashed my face into the floor, I screamed. "Whose number is this you fuck?" He yelled at me.

I didn't want to say the next words that left my mouth, but what else could I do to avoid more punishment? "It's the number to where Stan is!" I snapped my mouth shut immediately after finishing that sentence. Dammit.

"I see…" He released me and stood up straight. I turned back onto my back and once again struggled to sit up. I could tell by the look on his face that I had made a grave mistake by telling him that information. "So your 'precious' fuck buddy is out of town, huh? Guessing by the area code, he's out of state." He smirked. "Come on," he grabbed the front of my still wet jacket and threw me onto a wooden chair, "you're going to make a call."

He **wanted** Stan to know he had kidnapped me? I wasn't going to question his choice since it meant I'd get out of here sooner, but Eric was seriously a dumbass. I couldn't complain though. I nodded. "Fine. Call the number. I'll tell Stan you got me."

His eyebrows knit together with irritation. He knew I was more than willing because I believed this would help me, but he still pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number. As it rang, he held the phone at the side of face. "Here."

It rang for some time before finally an operator's voice came over the line.

"_This is an emergency line for the families of training soldiers at Camp Newkirk. Who are you trying to contact?"_

I looked at Eric for a moment and then said into the phone, "Stan Marsh."

"_Unit?"_

"I, uh…I'm not sure."

The operator sighed. _"Okay. Please hold for a few minutes while I try to find his unit number."_

As I waited, I looked into Eric's eyes and saw rage there. I had no idea why he was making me call Stan to tell him this, but from the look in his eyes, he was planning something. I wish I knew what so that I knew if I should hang up or let the call go through. Before I could decide that though, the operator came back on the line:

"_Okay. I'm directing your call to unit six. Tell the commanding officer who you want to speak with."_

"Alright. Thank you."

There was a clicking noise followed by the voice of an angry sounding man, _"This is commanding officer of unit six, Colonel Frederick Wilcox. You wanted to speak with Stanley Marsh, correct?"_

"Yes, I, uh, I do."

"_I have to ask who you are."_

"Kyle."

"_Okay. Hold on."_ I waited as I heard him yell for Stan to come to the phone, and that he had an emergency call from me. A minute later, I heard the magnificent sound of his voice:

"_Kyle? What's wrong?"_

I smiled. "Stan, when you get home, we're gonna get married."

He chuckled. _"That's great babe, but that doesn't count as an emergency. You could've waited until I called in a few days to tell me that."_

"That's not the emer–" I was cut off when Eric took the phone away from my ear.

His face was filled nothing but anger, guess my choice of words wasn't what I was supposed to say. "Stupid. Do you honestly think you'll live to have another wedding?" He clicked the speaker button on the phone. "I don't think so."

"_Kyle? Whose voice is that?"_

Eric laughed. "You don't recognize my voice Marsh? How very disappointing." He grabbed a steak knife off of the kitchen counter near me. "And to think," he ran the sharp side of the blade along my jaw, I sucked in a sharp breath in response, "we were friends once."

"_Cartman?"_

"Bingo!" He laughed again.

"_What've you done to Kyle?"_

"Oh nothing outside of breaking his nose…yet." He smirked wildly, his eyes matched the wildness and it scared me. "You see, I thought it would be a wonderful present for you to watch your now fiancé get tortured, but seeing as you're out of town at the moment, you'll have to settle for hearing it."

"_Don't you fucking touch him, fat ass!"_

Stan's words made Eric laugh even harder than before. Oh hell. Was I going to die already? "Neither of you are exactly in any position to be calling the shots. Especially not," he placed the blade of the knife against my left side, "'poor' Kyle." The blade tore past the fabric of both my jacket and my shirt to dig deep into my side as he sharply pulled the knife back.

I shrieked as the wound opened and began to pump blood.

"_What the hell did you do to him?"_ Stan screamed over the phone.

"Just re-opened an old wound you should remember. Oh, but there were so many, weren't there? Which should I re-visit next?" Eric placed the now bloody knife against the top of my right thigh. "The ones that were on his legs?" He pulled the knife back, opening another gash through my pants, once again, I shrieked. "How about his arms?" The blade of the knife cut open my right shoulder. "Or how about opening those four still visible scars on his pretty face?' He pressed the tip of the knife against the top scar on my left cheek and slowly traced it, painfully re-opening that scar.

Pained tears ran from my eyes at the feeling of the cold steel, warmed by my blood, slicing open my skin as I screamed. Somehow, I think it hurt worse have these wound opened again than when they were first inflicted over a year ago.

"_Godammit Cartman! Enough!"_ Stan still screamed. _"Just stop!"_ I could hear the beginnings of a sob in his voice, and I hoped Eric couldn't.

"Oh yes," he threw the knife into the sink, "I should stop for now. The sun is beginning to set and I'm sure you're busy. Well Marsh, I hope your beloved's screams give you some wonderful nightmares tonight." He laughed again. "Goodbye."

"_Wait! No! Ky–"_ Eric clicked the end button on the cell phone, successfully cutting Stan's words short.

I looked between the phone and Eric's brown eyes for what seemed like forever before I finally gulped hard. Stan knew Eric had me, but something in this moment told me that I wasn't going to live to see Stan ever again. And that when I heard his panicked voice…that that was to be the last time I'd ever hear him speak.

Eric set his phone down on the kitchen table and forced me to my feet after cutting the ropes around my ankles. "Come now. Our reunion is to be celebrated."

"No!" I turned sharply, slamming my left shoulder into his chest - that normally wouldn't work whatsoever, but he wasn't exactly expecting a retaliation after what he did to me. I brought my left leg up, with much pain to my right, and kicked him in the stomach. I wasn't going to allow this shit to happen! I wasn't helpless this time!

He coughed and then stomped over to me, this time grabbing my ankle as I went to kick him again. "You stupid bitch!" His fist connected hard with my chest, sending me stumbling back a few steps before I fell. "You're going to regret that!" He grabbed my hair and yanked me along, literally dragging me along behind him kicking and screaming for him to release me.

When he finally released me, it was so I could be thrown onto, what I assume was a king-sized bed. I tried to scramble away as he approached the bed, but it was useless. Eric pinned me by my neck with one hand as his other worked on my pants.

"You will not enjoy this," he said from between his teeth, "this will not be quick," he tore my pants from me and quickly did the same with my boxers, "I am not your lover." He bit down on my neck.

I squeezed my eyes closed as the feeling I had ditched came flooding back. I was, once again, the prey of a much more powerful predator.


	25. Waiting for the End

"_Waiting for the end to come/Wishing I had to strength to stand/This is not what I had planned/It's out of my control"_

_Chapter 25: Waiting For The End_

Under the thick blanket covering the king-sized bed, I was shaking. It wasn't because I was cold or anything even relatively close to that; it was because the semen of my bastard of an ex-husband was still leaking out of me.

Said bastard had actually left a few minutes ago. I don't remember if he said he was going into town or if he was just leaving the room, but I didn't care about that. I was just glad that before he left, he undid the ropes around my wrists, though he did put a shackle with a short chain around my ankle. Now that my wrists were unbound, I had them wrapped around myself.

I hated acting like the victim, I always had, but between the now dried blood from the cuts and gashes on my body, the screwed up pain in my ass, and the forming bruises, I felt like I had to find a way to get some help. If only there was a way to escape the shackle around my ankle without chafing it bloody - the shackle was really tight.

I sniffed and wiped the tears from my face. A phone. I sat up and looked around, thinking that maybe there was a phone in here somewhere. I turned and reached into the end table next to the bed, hoping for an emergency cell phone but finding nothing. Dammit! I looked at the end table on the other side of the bed. Could I reach it? Probably not without bloodying my ankle.

Might as well try though.

I moved to try to cross the bed, but stopped immediately when I felt both resistance from the chain and the pain of the edge of the shackle digging deep into my skin. I bit my bottom lip and moved back to where I had been laying with comfort to my ankle.

"Son of a bitch!" My fist hit the mattress, bouncing back up as soon as it hit. What the hell was I going to do now? I didn't just want to lie here and wait for Eric to come back to either torture or rape me again. There had to be something I could do, anything.

I sat up again and reached under the blanket to pull at the chain, which was as thick as the one I had been in in my nightmare. "Dammit!" I pulled at the chain. "Let me go! I have to get out of here! Let! Me! **Go**!" I pulled at the chain for a bit more before releasing it and falling back onto my back, tears in my eye once again. "Dammit!" I rested the heels of my hands against my eyes in a vain attempt to stop the tears. "Dammit! **Dammit**!"

There was an annoyed sigh around the door and I looked to see Eric standing there with a disgusted look on his face. "Pathetic. I thought you'd become stronger." He dropped the plastic bag in his arm to the ground, making a hollow plastic noise sound off. "You're even weaker than when I was thrown into prison." I bent over and pulled a plastic bat from the bag. "Guess I should've come back before you got too used to being coddled by that asshole you've been dating."

My eyes widened at the sight of the bat. No, not this again! I shot up and started trying to escape to the other side of the bed so I could at least try to get away. Now, I ignored the pain that shot through my ankle as the shackle dug and ripped my skin open, I needed away from Eric!

He smirked wildly. "Where're you going," he caught my unshackled ankle and pulled me back over to him, "**honey**?"

My eyebrows knit together angrily. He **never** had the right to call me that! But now that I was to marry Stan, I would never allow that word to come from him for me. "I don't belong to you!" I leapt forward with my fist raised to strike, but he swung the baseball bat and connected it with my stomach.

I fell back with a pained cough. Fuck…that pain…I had never wanted to remember it, let alone experience it again. But that throbbing pain when the plastic baseball bat smacked against my bare skin was nearly too much for me, I nearly passed out. Stan…help me. Please, you have to. I can't stay like this for much longer…

Another tear fell from my eyes just before the bat struck me again and the black took me.

…

When I woke again I was immediately assaulted by the pain of hundreds of welts from the plastic bat Eric had beat me with - judging from the pain, he had continued to beat me even after I passed out. Slowly, I sat up groaning as the pain coursed through me. God, I felt worse than ever. Why couldn't I have just died and been spared this pain?

My hand rested on my side when a sharp pain erupted from that, I looked down when I felt bandages there. There actually were bandages around my torso, bloodied though they were. They were also on my shoulder, right thigh, and left ankle where the shackle had been only a little bit ago. Why was I released? Granted, I was that I had been freed of the shackle and chain, but it made no sense. My cuts were bandaged, my nose was - from what I could tell - back in place, and my ankle was free of the shackle. What happened to Eric restraining me? Was he no longer afraid I'd escape?

I swung my feet off the bed and limped towards the door, hoping it was unlocked. When I turned the doorknob though, it resisted. Dammit, he locked the door. Guess that explains why he unshackled me though.

"I'm not staying here," I muttered. I limped over to the window and threw it open. I stuck my head out and immediately withdrew back inside, and closed the window. So aside from the intense cold, there was a huge drop off right next to the cabin. The window was out of the question. I **had** to go through the front door.

Before I even started to think of a way out, I reached into the dresser under the window. I slipped into the white boxers I pulled out and then ended up grabbing a pair of blue jeans and a dark blue jacket. So this was Craig's room, huh? I hated that I had to wear that asshole's clothes, but I didn't have much choice. Eric tore mine to hell.

I pulled on a white t-shirt before shrugging on the jacket. Not the thickest thing I'd ever worn but it would have to do. Now there was only the matter of escaping this room.

I yanked open the drawers in both end tables but found nothing that would help me. I walked into the adjoining bathroom and pulled the shower curtain rod down; I immediately pulled the two halves apart, dragging one half behind me. I wasn't sure if this was going to work but I'd be damned if I didn't try.

I went back over to the door and raised the shower rod above my head. "Please let this work." I brought the rod down on the door knob four or five times, praying with each strike that it would break. Finally, on the fifth strike, both the shower rod and the door knob snapped in half.

A smile crossed my face as I shoved the door open. Time to go! I stepped forward to make a dash for the front door, but the moment I set foot outside of the room, something collided with the back of my head and I fell to the ground. I glanced up at a laughing Eric as I fought yet another round of black.

"Well, that took longer than I thought," he crouched in front of my and grabbed a fistful of my hair, "but now I see why. You actually thought you were going to make it out of this cabin." He laughed as he dragged me over to the kitchen. "Did you really think I'd let you get away so easily?" He threw me into the same kitchen chair I had been in when Stan found out I had been captured. "I can't believe you'd even think such a thing."

Handcuffs tightened around my wrists. Dammit. I weakly struggled against the handcuffs but just relaxed against the chair as black continued teasing the edges of my eyes. I can't stay this way, darkness teasing the edges of my eyes. Instead of continuing to fight it, I slipped my eyes closed as I felt Eric cuff my ankles to the legs of the chair.

This had to stop. I can't keep passing out like this…or I'll never escape.


	26. Pressure

"_We're better off without you"_

_Chapter 26: Pressure_

This time when I opened my eyes, I was still cuffed to that same damn kitchen chair Eric left me in. There was a slight difference though: I was next to the couch facing the TV now. On the TV was the Park County News, the headline of the broadcast actually being my disappearance.

"…_There has still been no report of Mr. Broflovski's location; though there is evidence that escaped convict Eric Cartman is to blame."_ I looked over at where Eric was sitting on the couch when I heard a barking laugh come from him.

"Of course I took him asshole!" he laughed once again. "Now I dare you to find me!"

"_The engaged of the missing man is to hold a news conference shortly to announce plans for a search and rescue operation."_ I looked back at the TV screen at those words. Stan was going to speak? _"No one is sure if Cartman is still in South Park though, if he was ever here in the first place. If he is, that tubby piece of lard should just let Broflovski go and save me and this news team some work."_

"What did that dick call me?" Eric yelled at the TV.

I sighed. "It was a newscaster in town Eric, no one that you should get pissed off over."

His fist connected with the side of my face, snapping my head to the side. "Even after three days of being out of it, you still don't understand?" Three days? I was out for **three days**? That at least explains why I'm sore. "You say just the right word, or, really," he pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and held it at my throat, (crap), "the wrong word, and I'll slit your pretty little throat. Your blood would make a nice paint for these drab wooden walls. Who knows," he smirked, "Craig might even thank me for painting the place."

My eyes widened. I hated to admit it, but he was right. I had no control over the situation; he could just as easily tear my throat open right now as torture me slowly and wait another week or two to kill me. Dammit! I had no choice; I knew from the memory of those six months married to him what I had to reduce myself to in order to survive.

I let tears fall down my face as I begged, "Please Eric, **please** don't kill me! I…I'll do anything, just don't kill me! I'm not ready to die…!"

Eric began to laugh maniacally at my begging. I wasn't sure if he thought it was pathetic or if he was simply amused at it. "Don't worry baby," he slipped the switchblade back into his pocket, "I won't kill you yet." He kissed my forehead and I tensed. What was he planning? "Your death needs to be elegant and so beautiful that the very sight of your mangled corpse will send your fuck buddy into a downward spiral that ends in suicide."

I sucked in a sharp breath. "You're planning on killing me so that Stan will just…kill himself?"

He smiled sweetly. "But of course. And I'll be watching on as he kills himself with the knife I'll leave him. It'll be so beautiful, so artful."

"You… You're sick!" I yelled without thinking. "There's nothing beautiful, or elegant, or even artful about death you twisted, demented **fuck**!"

He drew his arm back and punched me in the eye as hard as he could, sending the chair and me tumbling to the ground. "What was that?" His anger was back I could hear it in his voice. "This twisted, demented fuck couldn't hear you clearly."

I didn't care that he was angry and about to snap at the right choice of words, I still yelled from between my teeth, "I said you're a fat, stupid, demented fuck!"

So calmly it made the hair on my arms stand on end, Eric undid the cuffs around my wrists and ankles, and drug me over into the kitchen by my arm, being sure to shove me against the wall where I could still see the TV. Before I could react, he grabbed a kitchen knife and drove it through my wrist and into the wall. I shrieked and reached for the knife, but he caught my hand before I could grab it and drove another knife into that wrist.

He smiled sweetly once again. "There we are. Now I don't have to worry about you escaping."

Tears running down my face, I glanced at one of my wrists to see my blood completely soaking Craig's jacket around the knife and sliding down the sleeve towards my torso. A sob escaped me at the sight as pain-filled tears traced wet trails down my face. God, I never thought I'd feel such pain! My arms were filled with fire and my blood felt like it was boiling against my skin.

"W-W-Why did you have to…?" I flexed one finger by accident and the shrieked as the fiery pain once again shot up my arm.

"I told you to be careful of your mouth," no he didn't, (or did he? I couldn't remember), "and did you? No. You had to be punished."

"P-Punished?" I looked into his eyes for a bit longer before hanging my head. I don't deserve…I do deserve…no, I…I don't deserve this! …But, maybe I do. Could this situation just be God's way of telling me it was wrong for me to be unfaithful to Eric, even though he was abusing me and I was receiving unconditional love from Stan?

My head still hanging, I saw his shadow turn away back to the living room as the newscaster on the TV said, _"Okay, we'll be cutting from our regular broadcasting now to the public announcement mentioned earlier in our broadcast."_

Stan was about to speak? It would be good to hear his voice again. Maybe it would be enough to tell me if my "punishment" was just. Was it really this hard for me to decide for myself? I mean, sure I–

"_Thank you everyone. My name is Stan Marsh,"_ I looked up at the TV screen, _"and I am Kyle Broflovski's fiancé."_

Tears flooded my eyes at the sight of his tired face on the TV, and in those two short sentences I knew that this damned punishment wasn't just. I smiled just slightly at his voice saying he was my fiancé.

"_Unit Six from Camp Newkirk accompanied me here to help with the search. Colonel Frederick Wilcox, the commanding officer of my unit, will be speaking after me on the matter."_ He bit his bottom lip for a moment before his gaze turned angry. _"And Eric Cartman, if you're listening to this, I __**know**__ you kidnapped Kyle! I would love to kick your fat ass for what I heard you doing to him over the phone but that requires me knowing your location. Rest assured, you __**will**__ die when you're found! And if Kyle's dead,"_ he visibly began shaking with rage, _"regardless of the consequences, you will suffer every torture I can imagine you fat fuck!"_

Even from where I was pinned, I could sense Eric's anger at Stan's choice of words on the announcement. I smirked when he cursed and turned the TV off. Someone was a tad angry it seemed. At seeing my smirking face, he stomped over to me and yanked the knife from my wrist. I screamed at the feeling, my scream turned into a shriek as he pinned my arm back and drove the knife through the palm of my hand.

Eric grabbed my chin as my head fell again and forced my gaze to meet his glare. "Let's see if Marsh will want you after you've been scarred."

I smirked as best I could. "He wanted me a year ago when I was all but completely useless. Why wouldn't he want me when I'm scarred?"

He ground his teeth together and pulled both knives out of my hand and wrist at once. "He won't want you," he held one knife to my throat, keeping me from collapsing to the floor like my legs so wanted me to do, "I'll be sure of it." The other knife swiftly cut through the jacket, the t-shirt, and the skin of my stomach.

I shrieked through a sob as my arms flew around my bleeding stomach. He backed off to let me slide down the wall to the ground. My arms were shaking uncontrollably with the pain coming from all over my body. Why? What the hell did I do to deserve this kind of torment? **What**?

…_A Few Days Later_…

I groaned in pain as I opened my eyes to stare vacantly at the ceiling. How long had I been here? Five days? Or was it longer? I couldn't be for sure. I had been put back in Craig's room after my stomach had been cut open. Ever since then, Eric's been going a bit crazy with bloodplay while he rapes me. All the cuts and gashes that I had long since abandoned were back alongside new ones that criss-crossed them. And the pain that had been unbearable not long ago, I was now numb to. Whether I just detached myself from it or the adrenaline from the multiple wounds finally kicked in, I didn't know and frankly I didn't care. The pain was gone, that's all that mattered.

Stan…I still remembered him saying on TV that he was going to kill Eric when he was caught. It was only a matter of time, it had to be. How much more time could it take to search a cabin in the mountains? Not much longer I hope. I wasn't sure how much longer I could last like this. Every time I was cut or raped, I could feel my will bleeding out of me with each drop of blood I lost.

My will to live was dwindling…


	27. Secret

"_I could never speak anyway/What you wanted to hear"_

_Chapter 27: Secret_

The bedroom door slammed open without warning, but all I did was look vacantly over at where a very mad Eric was standing in the doorway. I couldn't help but wonder what made him suddenly angry. It seemed I was going to get my answer as he unlocked the shackle back around my left ankle and dragged me out of the room by my arm.

I was forced to my knees in front of the TV. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and forced me to look at the screen. "What the fuck is that whore doing back here?"

For the first time in days I felt a sliver of emotion: surprise. On the TV was not only Stan but Kenny and Butters also. Was Kenny given emergency leave for this? I smiled a little; he was back to help. My smile then turned to a smirk, Butters was going to tell him about Craig. When Kenny went to kill Craig, he would rat out Eric - the coward never went down alone - and I would be found.

"I'm saved," I laughed.

"'Saved?'" Eric turned my head so he could look me in the eyes. "Just because that whore's back, you think you're **saved**?"

"You seemed pretty concerned about it ten seconds ago. Craig told you why he hates me, right?" The look on his face told me he had. "Butters will tell Kenny what Craig did to him, and in his final moments, Craig will tell Kenny where we are." I laughed with almost a sense of insanity breaking through my mind. "I'll be rescued and you'll die!"

He ground his teeth together and literally threw me over into the front of the couch. "You don't get it, do you?" He screamed at me. "I won't go down so easily! And if I die, so do you!"

I glanced up at him. "Why should I have to die because you do? What would that accomplish?"

He grabbed my neck with both hands this time and began to squeeze, both of my own hands flew up in an automatic response to the lack of oxygen. "You belong to **me**! If I die, you die! When I go to Hell, you'll be joining me!" He let my neck go roughly; I coughed and gasped for air. I glanced up when he pointed at me. "You are damned because you hold my markings on your body, and those marks will guarantee our marriage in Hell."

I ground my teeth together. "No. I don't belong to you, I belong to Stan. I will not die with or before you. And I **will not** join you in Hell! Our **marriage** was damned and when it ended I was in Heaven! I will not go back to that Hell **you created**!"

This time, instead of a fist, Eric simply slapped me as hard as he possibly could across the face. "You stupid bitch. You still don't understand the situation, do you? You will do as I say, and this next marriage will not be like the last marriage **you** damned."

"I won't marry you again." I spit at him, earning a swift kick to the stomach for it.

"Idiot. I don't wanna marry you in this life." He grabbed a fistful of my hair and lifted me up, forcing me to look in his eyes. "In Hell, our union will be unavoidable."

"I'm not going to Hell," I said slowly so that he could hear every syllable as I said it.

"Then you'd condemn Heaven to endure me?"

"You're going to Hell," I brought my knee up into his groin, he released me and collapsed to the ground, "and I'm staying on Earth." I climbed to my feet and stepped forward to make a dash for the door, but Eric caught my ankle, sending me crashing to the floor.

He chuckled and slowly got to his knees. I tried pulling my leg away, my nails digging into the wooden floor as I tried. I kicked out at his face, thinking he couldn't keep a grip on my ankle if he was kicked it the face, but all he did was catch my right ankle too. He smirked and laughed as he rose to his feet, my ankles still in his hands.

"Jesus Christ, you're such an idiot!" He started dragging me back towards the kitchen. Knowing what was coming, I grabbed for the couch, but all that happened were my nails digging in and leaving a small tear in the side. "You need to learn your lesson; I'm getting so tired of this!"

I was flipped over onto my back and he let me go. Quickly, I turned back over went to scramble to my feet, but Eric stomped onto my lower back. I collapsed to the kitchen floor and then screamed as a butcher's knife was thrust though my thigh. Again with this?

I reached back to take the knife out of my thigh but he swiftly moved his foot from my back to stomp down on my wrist so hard it snapped. I cried out when that pain struck me, a few tears escaped my eyes. Son of a bitch it hurt! I wasn't sure which hurt worse though, my thigh or my wrist.

"Pull that knife out and you'll suffer worse." He took his foot off of my wrist so that I could hold it against my chest. "This is a lesson to make you understand who's in charge here."

I looked up at him as he grabbed his wig off of the table. He was going into town? Guess I lucked out in that aspect. His leaving meant I was free of torment for at least an hour. Plus I needed to nurse my wrist before it could begin to swell.

My forehead hit the kitchen floor and stayed that way until I heard the door slam shut. When the door shut, I slowly turned to sit up with my foot resting up on a chair. I reached around to the back of my leg with my unbroken wrist and gripped onto the hilt of the butcher's knife. I bit down on my forearm anticipating the pain. This was going to hurt worse that when the knife was put there.

My teeth clamped down hard into my arm as I pulled the knife out of my leg, the sound of my screaming barely escaped my mouth. Blood flooded my mouth but the mild pain in my arm was minute compared to my thigh though, I could easily block it out.

I released my arm from my mouth and allowed a short cry to escape me as I did and the knife clattered to the floor. I fell back as dark threatened to engulf me again. No, I couldn't pass out now! I couldn't afford for Eric to find me without that knife in my leg!

I gripped the edge of the table and slowly pulled myself to my feet. Before I could even take a step towards the bathroom, my legs gave out and I stumbled to one knee. "Godammit, get up!" I yelled at myself. Again, I pulled myself to my feet.

This time I managed to stay on my feet and went towards the bathroom with my wrist cradled against my chest and my left leg dragging behind me. Dammit, I was in so much pain! I hated that that goddamn knife had to go back in my leg, but it was unavoidable if I wanted to avoid getting stabbed yet again.

In the bathroom I searched through the medicine cabinet. Immediately I grabbed the bottle of Advil I saw there and popped four into my mouth before searching for something, anything to use as a tourniquet. Luckily there was a worn, gray wrist brace in the medicine cabinet. I pulled it out of the cabinet and slipped it on over my wrist, putting it as tight as it could go regardless of the pain that shot up my arm when I did, my wrist had to be taken care of, and I had no choice but to endure the pain that came with trying to fix it. I pulled the sleeve of the jacket I still wore down to cover the brace and slowly made my way back to the kitchen.

I slumped against the counter in there, my eyes automatically found a steak knife when I did. A knife…perfect. I grabbed it and slipped the knife into the brace, hiding it like an assassin's hidden blade.

Groaning, I lowered myself back to the ground and positioned myself with my foot on the chair like I had earlier. I grabbed the butcher's knife, positioning it at the open, bleeding stab wound. I took a couple deep breaths, a sob threatened to break through when I did but I pushed it down. I had no choice, I reminded myself, this had to happen. The knife **had** to go back into my leg. I took another breath and screeched as I forced the knife into my thigh.

When the knife was back in place I fell back taking strained breaths. Now I didn't care, there wasn't any reason for me to stay conscious now that the knife was back in place. I slipped my eyes closed and allowed my body to go limp while the soft waves of sleep took me.

…

"Wake up!" Eric's voice screamed into my ear. No, I didn't want to wake up, in my sleep I was with Stan. In my sleep I wasn't in pain and didn't have any injuries. Reality was a place I hated and didn't want to be. "Wake the fuck up!" No, I'm not gonna wake up…

My eyes flew open and I screeched as he ripped the butcher's knife from my leg. What was he thinking? Why did I need to be up exactly? "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I screamed.

His elbow came down on my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I coughed and gasped for breath as he said, "Get up!" He grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet. "Come on you bitch!"

I stumbled behind me, unable to stay balance as the pain ran up and down my bleeding leg with each step. He forced me into the bedroom and threw me onto the bed. His lips connected with mine, my eyes squeezed closed and I began to tremble. Not this again, I didn't want–wait! The steak knife I had concealed earlier suddenly felt heavy against my wrist, I smiled at this as Eric bit down hard on my throat.

I faked a moan and lifted my arms above my head. "Eric," I breathed, please, do me."

He glanced up at me with some disbelief. "You want me to?"

I lifted my hips to grind against him. "Yes, I…I want you."

He smirked and bit me again as he worked on the button of my pants. Taking his moment of distraction to my advantage, I slid down the sleeve of the jacket and pulled the knife out of the brace, ignoring the shallow cut that was left there when I did. I flipped the knife over in my hand to be holding it blade out. Eric was about to get an unwelcome surprise. An early trip to Hell.

"Eric," I moaned, "kiss me."

When he pushed himself up and looked at me, I brought the knife down on his shoulder.


	28. Deliver Us From Evil

"_Someone save me from this nightmare"_

_Chapter 28: Deliver Us From Evil_

I plunged the knife into Eric's shoulder, feeling a sense of satisfaction when I heard him screaming in pain. When he sat back and groped for the hilt of the knife, I brought one knee up into his groin. This time when it connected, he fell to the side with a genuine look of pain etched onto his face. I took advantage of this and scrambled off of the bed.

Before I could take off, I tore the left sleeve of the jacket off and turned it into a botched bandage around my still bleeding thigh. I could only hope that slowed the bleeding enough for me to make it into town and to where that would help me.

I ran for the door them, so happy when I actually made it. I threw open the door and ran outside.

The snow chilled my bare feet to the very bone, I knew I would be lucky to be able to keep my feet after this ordeal but that was the least of my concern. Even after the cold pain set in I didn't care, I just ignored it to the best of my ability. I kept running regardless of my feet and of how cold my upper body was getting. (I was sure that my blood was beginning to freeze on my leg and knowing that wasn't helping my situation at all.)

Suddenly I saw a car driving towards me on the road. It might've been with the search team! I raised my arm and waved at the vehicle. "Hey! Help me! Please!"

Before the car could get any closer to me, I was tackled into the bushes ad the snow. I looked up at the person who had shoved me to find a very enraged Eric, the knife missing from his shoulder, glaring down at me. From the look on his face, I was sure he was seeing red.

His hands tightened on my shoulders as he began to shake me, ignoring the fact that my head bounced off the ground each time he shook me back. "You stupid little shit!" He dropped me back onto the ground and started punching me. "Don't you **ever** do that again! Next time I'm not gonna be so merciful!"

I drew in a few ragged breaths and some tears escaped my eyes. Between the cold, my bleeding leg, and the new pain of the forming bruises, I felt weak. My body was edging close to death. The realization sent my failing heart into a panic. I was starting to die? No! NO! I can't die! I don't wanna leave Stan! Not like this!

Eric must've realized this too because the second the car passed us, he picked me up bridal style and carried me back to the cabin. He was acting like he actually cared that I was about to die, and I almost believed him. I could hear his heart beating wildly in his chest and though he held me as tight as ever against him, there was a sense of…regret? Or maybe tenderness? I didn't know, but whatever it was didn't fool me. He didn't care that I was dying; someone who'd been trying to kill me wouldn't be showing concern at the last minute.

In the cabin, he set me down on the couch and quietly sauntered off. I turned my head to the on TV, seeing a repeat of The Daily Show playing. I chuckled a bit as it played, but it didn't last long. Eric turned the TV off and sat on the ground next to the couch. His t-shirt was gone; in its place were bandages around the shoulder I had stabbed. His face held what could've been genuine concern but, again, I wasn't buying it.

"Why," I panted, "do you…even bother to look…like you care?"

He held up a glass of blue-ish liquid and smiled sweetly. "I told you we'd be married in Hell. For that to happen we must both be dead. When you go, so will I babe." He kissed my forehead.

I shuddered at the touch but didn't say anything. As much as I hurt right now, I wasn't going to say anything to make the end come faster. There was a part of me that desperately wanted to believe Stan was going to make it here before I died, and I wanted it to be true. If I could get my chance, the last thing I wanted to see before I went would be Stan's face. And I would want to apologize to him for leaving him alone and urge him not to join me.

"Eric," I groaned as another wave of pain hit me, "why'd you do this?"

"Because our union required it." He ran one hand through my hair; I did flinch back at this. While married I had always hated when he made these little romantic gestures, and I'd be damned if he tried them now. I didn't want the last thing to happen to me to be Eric's attempt at romance towards someone he hated. "Are you not satisfied with my romance?" There was a little edge to his voice; he didn't like my reaction to his gestured.

"…I never have been," I said lowly. I couldn't lie when I was like this, I was too weak to think of even the most pathetic lie and it sucked. "You're the worst person…I've ever met," rage crossed his face, "and I won't be joining you…in Hell."

He suddenly began to visibly shake with anger. "You know, I was **trying** to be nice to you before you died. I **was** going to let your body decide when you're going to die, but now," his hands wrapped around my neck and he threw me to the floor, "I think I'll assist the Grim Reaper!"

As his hands became tighter around my neck than ever before, I gripped onto his wrists with my nails digging in and my legs flailing around hoping to hit him. As death approached quicker than I had been expecting, fear set in. I didn't want to die! I wasn't ready! Stan! Stan, please help me! Stop him! Save me! A strained scream attempted to escape me but only came out as a harsh breath.

Suddenly an explosive sound resonated through the cabin. Eric's hands loosened on my neck and we both looked to see a small hole in his chest where blood was leaking. Our eyes connected after a second.

"Lame," he managed to utter before he fell to the side, dead.

I relaxed against the floor then, feeling my restored breathing become shallower with each passing second. Eric was dead, this time I was really free. I smiled slightly knowing this.

"Kyle!" Stan? I glanced over at him as he fell to his knees next to me, and lifted me into his arms. I got my wish; I got to see him one last time. His hair was short, cut for basic, and under his eyes were deep black bags. He must not have gotten much sleep since coming back to South Park. "Kyle! Kyle, stay with me! Someone get a stretcher!"

There were others here? I guess that made sense though, Stan wouldn't be alone searching for me no matter how much he wanted to. I lifted my bandaged hand to his face; he caught it and held it against his chest over his heart. I opened my mouth to thank him but only a ragged breath escaped me as my eyelids fell closed without my permission. I was going to miss him.

"Kyle, no!" I could absently feel him shaking my body, but I was already being taken away. "Wake up! Kyle, you can't leave me!" I heard a sob come from him. "I love you!"

The desperate sound of his voice made my resolution about my inevitable death reverse itself. I don't wanna die and leave you Stan, I really don't. Oh God, please don't take me! I love Stan too much to leave him all alone! I'm sorry for whatever I did to deserve Eric to seriously kill me, but I'm not ready!

A mild wave of panic hit my faintly beating heart as my body relaxed further and further, edging closer to death. I went limp and suddenly felt like my mind was being lifted from my body.

I'm not ready…

"_Kyle,"_ Stan's sobbing voice resonated through me, _"wake up!"_

I'm not ready…

"_Someone help me! He has no pulse!"_

I'm not ready to die…


	29. Why Don't You & I?

"_So I'll say why don't you and I get together/Take on the world and be together forever?"_

_Chapter 29: Why Don't You & I…?_

Tall, vibrant green grass that blew around my legs with the slightest breeze surrounded me. I looked up to see a clear azure blue sky without even the smallest cloud dotting it. In the distance was a single large oak tree; I walked towards it with no pain in my leg. Everything, every little cut and bruise, every break and stab wound Eric had given me was gone.

Here I felt relaxation of relief, and I knew that this was the place Eric couldn't even begin to dream of reaching. But regardless of the calm of this place, I couldn't feel even a shred of happiness because I knew I was alone and so was Stan.

Under the tree sat a little blonde-haired girl in a torn dress crying. I knelt down next to her. "What's wrong?"

"I…I can't find mommy," she cried.

My lips tightened into a straight line when she looked up at me. Her face was torn open and her tears were of blood. I couldn't help but wonder why her wounds weren't sealed like mine. "Do you want help finding your mommy?"

She shook her head. "She told me to wait beneath this tree for her, but she hasn't come yet. And…And I don't know this place!"

"I'm sorry." I reached out to comfort her, but a voice yelled at me:

"Stop!" A man with long black hair and white wings walked up to me. "If you touch anyone in the land of the dead, you will not be able to return to Earth," I stood and faced the man, "even if you're called back."

"But this girl–"

"I will take care of her." The man knelt down in front of the girl and touched the side of her face, restoring the flesh to its normal state. "Your mommy's waiting for you beneath a different tree." He pointed to the way he came from. "Go that way towards a golden gate. She will be there."

The girl smiled and then ran off in the direction the man pointed in. When she was out of sight, the man turned to me. It was then that I realized his eyes were an unbelievably bright green. I took in his appearance, including the fact that he only wore a pair of dull white pants - he had a very nice, subtle build, it was so wonderful on the eyes!

He smiled. "Kyle. My name is Gabriel. I am the head Archangel in Heaven."

My eyes widened at his introduction. "Archangel Gabriel?" Holy crap I just checked out the personal messenger of God! I bowed slightly. "Forgive me for being so rude."

Gabriel laughed and shook his head. "Don't worry about it; you won't be here for long."

"I won't?" I gripped at my chest when my heart made a single powerful beat hard against my ribcage. "What the…?"

He smiled. "You're being pulled back, and it's a good thing. It's not your time to be here." I fell to my knees as the same pain hit my heart. "That Eric Cartman is the only reason your soul left your body. Had he not tried to strangle you, you would not be here."

The pain hit me again and I fell back onto my butt somehow. What the hell? I looked back thinking someone had pulled me back. When I saw no one there, I looked back at Gabriel. "What was that?"

He continued to smile. "Your soul is being pulled back to Earth. It's not your time and you're not ready, your beloved knows this and is ordering the doctor attending to you to bring you back to life."

The pain hit me again and this with more force. I was on my back and darkness surrounded me. The last thing I saw was Gabriel waving at me in farewell.

…

"_Kyle?"_ I could hear Stan's voice resonating through me once again, and he sounded panicked. _"Dammit, again!"_

"_No,"_ I didn't know this voice, it must've been the doctor Gabriel mentioned, _"he's gone, we can't do anything else."_

"_Godammit, zap his heart again! Or I'll do it myself!"_

There was a moment of silence before the unfamiliar voice came back, _"Fine. …Clear."_

This time when the pain hit me it was in the form of an electric shock and suddenly, I felt grounded to something. When my eyes flew open I was in a stark white room, coughing and gasping for breath. Someone put a mask over my mouth and began to manually pump air through it to help my breathing even out.

When I could finally control my breathing again, my eyes wandered around the room as much as they could. A nurse whose face I couldn't see too well was working the manual breathing pump and next to her was a very surprised yet relieved looking doctor. My eyes traveled to the other side of the stretcher I was laying on to see Stan standing there sobbing.

Why was he crying? I was okay, I was alive.

I reached out and weakly grabbed his hand to assure myself that this was real. When he looked at me through his tears and smiled so happily at me, I knew that it wasn't a trick. I really was alive.

"Oh God Kyle," Stan sobbed, "you're back!" He fell to his knees and held the top of my hand against his forehead; I could feel him shaking violently. "You're back!"

I took another breath and wheezed out, "Y-Yeah…I'm…b-back."

"Please try not to talk," the nurse said gently.

My eyes shot back over to her when she spoke. Her voice sounded so familiar. Did I know her? I got my answer when she moved slightly, showing me deep blue eyes and brunette hair I haven't seen in over a year. "A…m-manda?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Amanda Villé. But again Kyle, don't talk, you need to just breathe right now." She removed the manual air mask and quickly replaced it with an automatic one. "Also, you need to rest. I'll be giving you a strong dose of morphine so the attending surgeon can work on those stab wounds and your broken wrist." She looked at me seriously. "You lost a lot of blood, you're extremely lucky to be alive right now."

I nodded. I knew I was lucky to be alive - God bless free will and the desire to live, I guess - she didn't have to tell me that. When she walked away, I turned my head back to Stan, who was now getting to his feet. There were still a lot of tears rolling down his face and his eyes were really red from the crying, but the sobbing had ended. I was glad for that. I hated hearing him sob, it broke my heart.

"Kyle," he smiled now and gently cupped my face with one hand, "I'm so happy you're alive." He squeezed my hand just slightly. "You don't think they'd be too angry if I kissed you, do you?"

I glanced back over to the other side of the stretcher, at where Amanda and the doctor had retreated to go fetch a surgeon and then shook my head. No, I didn't think they'd be angry if he just kissed me. Stan grabbed the oxygen mask and slipped it down to give me a deep kiss. It only lasted a few seconds, but that fire and electricity that came with kissing him filled me with such happiness. I was glad I didn't die and leave him alone. Watching him slowly destroy himself from Heaven would've been too much to bear.

When he released me and slipped the oxygen mask back on, I looked at him through a film of my own tears. Crap, why was I crying? I had no reason to, we were both here and alive, and Eric was burning in Hell. There was no reason for me to be crying. We were safe…and free.

Stan wiped away a stray tear with his thumb. "Please don't cry baby. I'm not leaving this hospital until you do, and I'll be right beside you when you wake up from surgery. I promise."

I hated to think it, but he last time I had been hospitalized because of Eric, Stan said he'd be there when I woke up too. Yes, that wasn't his fault at all so I can't blame him for what happened back then, but it just came to mind. I knew though, he really would be here when I woke up this time. I smiled and managed to utter, "I…l-love you…Stan."

He smiled too. "I love you too Kyle." He kissed my forehead. "But you know Amanda's going to jump down my throat for letting you talk, so just breathe. You don't need to say anything else."

I nodded, still smiling. I looked back over as the door to the room opened again to see Amanda walking in with a syringe. The morphine.

"Kyle," she said when she was finally standing next to the bed, "I'm not gonna lie, this will knock you on your ass within a matter of seconds. On average, this keeps people asleep for a full day. Also, normally, people wake up feeling refreshed from their surgery when we give them this, but with what you have to go through…you'll probably feel like you were hit with a U.P.S. truck."

I chuckled silently a bit. So specific on the kind of truck I will feel like I was hit by. I looked at her and nodded. I wanted to get in and out of surgery quickly so I could be with my Stan again.

She nodded too. "Okay." She stuck the needle into my arm and forced the morphine into my vein. "I'll go get the surgeon." She left.

My eyes already beginning to droop, I looked back at Stan once more. He smiled at me. "I'll be right here when you wake up, I promise." I smiled at those words and then allowed my eyes to fall closed.

…

_Beep…_

_Beep…_

_Beep…_

Ugh… Will someone please stop that annoying beeping sound?

_Beep…_

Dammit! I slowly opened my eyes and looked around, finding what was making that noise immediately. I was hooked up to a heart monitor. Oh, I guess that's a good noise then. Still, I groaned. Hospital equipment always made the most irritating sounds.

"Kyle?" I turned my head to look at Stan as he came out my hospital room's adjoining bathroom. His mouth turned up into a wide smile. "I'm so happy to see you're finally awake."

I smiled too. "Yeah," my voice sounded scratchy, like I really needed some water, "I'm happy to be awake too."

He sat down in a cushioned high-backed chair next to my bed and grabbed a Styrofoam cup with water in it. "Here," he slipped his arm around my shoulders and helped me sit up, "drink some water."

I grabbed the cup from him with my right hand, seeing as it wasn't the one in a cast, and drank all of the water in the cup in a few gulps. Damn I was thirsty! I smiled at him again for a moment, until I noticed the half-sad look on his face. "What's wrong Stan?"

He took the cup from me and sat it back down on the tray near the bed before he slid in the bed next to me, being sure to avoid sitting on anything hooked up to me. "I know I said I wouldn't bother you about marriage anymore, but I have to know if what you said, about us getting married, was just for show in front of Cartman."

My eyes widened. He thought I was lying? I…I wouldn't…! "No, it wasn't. I meant every word. I wanna marry you, I'm ready." I gripped onto his jacket with my unbroken hand and rested my head on his collarbone. "I love you, and want everyone to know it. As soon as I'm out of the hospital, let's get married!"

Stan's arms wrapped around me and held me tight against him. "I want to, but I have to go back to basic two days after you're released."

I looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. "What? While I'm still recovering, they're making you go back?"

He sighed and nodded. "Yeah, but they're allowing me to return at the same scheduled time. Besides, Kenny's leaving tomorrow for Afghanistan again."

My shoulders slumped. I really Kenny to be at the wedding, so… "July." I smiled. "On the fifth. Let's get married then. You'll be part of the Army and Kenny will be home by then."

His smile returned. "Promise?"

I wrapped my arms around him, nodding. "Promise." I brought our lips together, both of us smiling into it.

Finally, we'll be together forever.


	30. Bless the Broken Road

"_God bless the broken road/It led me straight to you"_

_Final Chapter: Bless the Broken Road_

…_Seven Months Later_…

Looking at myself in the mirror I couldn't believe it. I was in a black suit for my wedding, something I wouldn't have imagined myself doing again only eight months ago. I pivoted on one foot and sat down in a chair, taking deep breaths as I massaged my left thigh where I knew a good-sized scar still was. I really hated that it still hurt right there every now and again.

Three months ago the rehabilitation doctor I'd been seeing concerning the healing stab wound in my thigh had told me that it was fully healed. A month later I had to go see my regular doctor about nerve pain I'd been feeling in that area of the scar; I had nerve damage not only in my thigh, but also on my wrists and left hand. All of those areas had a tendency of hurting, though my thigh was the worst - it acted up about three times a week.

I looked over at the door to the room as Butters came back inside. Judging by the state of his light blue suit, him and Kenny just had some fun in the other room. I smiled at the thought amusingly, earning a light blush from him. "W-What?"

"Oh," I shook my head, "nothing." I went to stand up, twitched slightly as my leg pained me again and just sat back down.

Butters walked over to me with wide eyes and knelt down in front of me. "Is your leg hurting again?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I should be fine after a bit though."

He shook his head and reached into **my** pant pocket for the bottle of prescription painkillers I had been given for my nerve pain. "You're taking these." He popped the lid open and shook two pills into my hand. "The last thing that you need today is pain."

I sighed and reluctantly swallowed the pills. Even though I hated taking those chalky pills and I sometimes hated that Butters was so on top of it when it came to my pain, I really had to thank him. After Stan left for basic again, he was always by my side to make sure I was okay. Most of the time he'd just stay at the apartment overnight if my pain had been particularly bad during the day - which was pretty much all the time. And even after Stan returned, Butters was sure to check up on me while I was still recovering - he even took me to and from a few rehabilitation sessions when Stan had to go to the field for a week.

I shoved the pill bottle back in my pocket. "Thanks Butters."

He smiled at me with delight. "There's no need to thank me Ky. People who care about each other take care of one another," he held out a hand to help me up, "right?"

I smiled too and took his hand to stand up. "Generally that's meant for couples, but I don't see why it can't apply for us too." I laughed a bit and then stared at down at him, forgetting that I was actually taller than someone for a few seconds. "So, are you and Kenny still getting married next month?"

His smile became wider. "Yeah, we are."

"That's great!" At learning me and Stan were getting married, Kenny decided it was time him and Butters did the same. They decided that it would be exactly a month after ours, two days after we returned from our honeymoon. (Honestly, both Stan and I were surprised they didn't just go to the courthouse right after Kenny returned from Afghanistan. They did lock themselves in their house for five days though…)

His eyes softened as he continued to smile. "It is." He shook his head suddenly. "But that's not the concern today." He started messing with my tie. "Today is about you and Stan."

I rolled my eyes and gently smacked his hands away. "I can deal with my own tie Butters. You, on the other hand," I straightened his tie and fixed the misaligned buttons on his jacket, "probably should've fixed yourself after you and Kenny did it in the next room."

He turned light red again. "I-It wasn't the next room! It w-was the bathroom!"

I raised an eyebrow. He just stuck his foot in his mouth with that little comment. "Forgive me for getting the room wrong."

His face turned an even brighter red. "I-I-I mean, uh…"

I laughed and ruffled his hair. "I'm just teasing you dude, you know that."

He sighed. Guess he still really doesn't like getting teased all too much.

We both looked over at the door as Clyde poked his head into the room and announced that I had to "get my ass outside." (Ever since Craig got arrested for rape and assisting attempted murder, Clyde hasn't been my biggest fan. He actually was only at the wedding because Wendy and Bebe wanted to come.) I rolled my eyes when he left.

"I hate him Butters, I really do," I said as I messed with my tie.

"Me too," he muttered. "But regardless, you do need to get out there."

I nodded. "I know." My smiled returned as I hooked an arm playfully around Butters' neck and we walked for the door. "Ya know 'little brother,' I couldn't have asked for a better best man."

"What about Ike?"

My lips tightened into a straight line. Originally I **was** going to ask Ike to be my best man, but he and Georgie randomly decided it would be a really good idea to elope. At first we thought they'd be back immediately since they're only sixteen-years-old, but they've been gone a week. My parents think they got stuck in Las Vegas or something, but both Stan and I think they actually found a preacher willing to marry two sixteen-year-olds. (They also might be afraid to come home.)

I smiled though. "He's with Georgie; I'm not worried about him."

"You don't want your brother here?" Butters asked as we stopped next to the door to the outside.

"I would've loved for him to be here, don't get me wrong," I said quickly. "I'm just glad that he's happy with Georgie wherever they went."

He smiled too. "If you're sure then." He poked his head out of the door and said something to someone before opening the door as wide as it would go. He looked back at me with an even wider smile. "They're getting ready to cue up the music. Is your leg feeling better?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it is. Thanks."

"It was nothing. You just have to remember to take them while on your honeymoon instead of trying to endure the pain," he pecked my cheek, "okay?"

I rolled my eyes once again. "Don't worry, I will." I would probably forget, so hopefully Stan would remember for me.

A second later, the stereotypical wedding march started up. I had been against a small band consisting of violins, cellos, and a single flute playing the wedding march, but I had warmed up to the idea when Stan showed me the band he was getting to play. It was a group of five people I had had band class with in middle school and who I'd been close friends with throughout high school. They had always wanted to bring classical music back with the style they used but haven't been very successful. They mostly played high school proms, some high-end gathering, and weddings. And as much as I'm still against the traditional wedding march, I did feel good helping out some old friends.

I shook myself out of my thoughts as I realized the music became the more profound - and the song I was really against being played - _"Here Comes the Bride,"_ (I'm a guy godammit! I don't want to walk towards the man I love with _"Here Comes the Bride"_ playing!)

Regardless, I sucked it up and walked forward with the speed of the music, which was agonizingly slow. As I walked forward, my eyes searched the crowd. I saw Tweek, Wendy, Bebe, Red, Clyde, Token - I was actually amazed he managed to make it this time - and Stan's parents and sister before my eyes made it to the end of aisle to him. My mouth turned up into a smile at the sight of him.

Stan looked absolutely wonderful in his white tux - he wouldn't wear anything else - and the small amount of eyeliner I assume Kenny made him wear made his eyes look just magnificent.

When I finally reached him, I grabbed his extended hand and all but leapt to his side. Our lips touched for the shortest of moments - though I still felt every overwhelming emotion for him I always did - before we both turned and looked at the judge. (We couldn't agree on either a Catholic or a Jewish wedding, so we just agreed that a judge would marry us.)

"Dearly beloved," the judge said loudly, "we are gathered here today to join these two men in matrimony. If there is anyone here who objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace."

There was a heavy silence for those few moments of silence. Goosebumps rose on my flesh as I heard Eric's voice in my head screaming "no" and then pulling the trigger of a gun. Even though he's been dead for seven months now, I still fear him more than anyone else alive today, and the thought of him rising from the dead terrified me.

The judge nodded when no one said a word, even Tweek's usual schizophrenic screaming was silent, (it became better once Craig was arrested and Tweek found companionship with Thomas), he continued, "Do you have the rings?"

Stan and I both looked down at a small boy holding a pillow with two silver bands on it. One engraved with the Star of David, the other engraved with the Catholic Cross. I grabbed the one with the Star of David and Stan grabbed the one with the cross. We had decided to have the symbols of our different faiths engraved onto the other's ring to symbolize our commitment to accepting the entirety of each other.

"Please exchange them." I slipped the ring with the Star of David onto Stan's finger and he slipped the ring with the Catholic Cross onto mine. "The rings symbolize eternity and a never ending bond, for there is no beginning and there is no end. Because it is a circle."

Me and Stan exchanged a look. Why did that sound familiar?

"Stop trying to quote comedy movies," Kenny said with a deep sigh, "and continue."

A few people in the crowd laughed before the judge continued on: "Please face each other." We did so. "Stanley Marsh, do you vow to love, honor, and hold Kyle Broflovski, and to forsake all others until death do you part?"

Stan nodded, a wide smile now gracing his face. "I do."

My smile became wider and I was suddenly holding back tears. Dammit, I'm not gonna cry! I cannot cry right now! "Kyle Broflovski, do you vow to love, honor, and hold Stanley Marsh, and to forsake all others until death do you part?"

"Until death and beyond, I do," I said as I felt a few tears making trails down my cheeks. Crap, don't cry, don't cry!

"Then, by the power vested in me by the state of Colorado, I now pronounce you legally married. You may kiss."

Exuberantly, I threw my arms around Stan's neck and brought our lips together faster than he could react. It was only after we were kissing that his arms made their way around me to hold me tight against him. Somehow that kiss felt different than all the times before. There was still the fire and electricity that always came with kissing him, but it seemed like there was something else there too…a promise, a vow of eternity together. Something I only hoped I was worthy of.

When we parted, I felt warm to the very depths of my soul for the first time in a very long time. And I knew then that this was right, that this was where I was supposed to be when I got married at twenty. With Stan I'm safe and loved, and I know nothing will ever hurt or touch me while I'm with him. This was my place, this was where I belonged.

Stan grabbed onto my hand once again and whispered to me, "Ready?"

"I've been ready," I whispered back.

Pulling me gently behind him, Stan and I ran back down the aisle and then hung a left at the end of the aisle towards the fence gate. In front of the house, parking on the curb, was a long black limousine waiting for us to get in.

I smiled at the sight of it. It was going to take us to the reception at the community center.

Stan opened the door at the back of the limo for me and gestured for me to climb in first. After I did and sat down, Stan sat down next to me and slammed the door shut. The separator between the driver and the back was up, but the driver seemed to get the idea and started driving.

I grabbed onto Stan's arm and rested my legs across his lap, cuddling against him. I really didn't want to go to the reception but we both had to at least make an appearance, I just wanted to go straight to the honeymoon and knew Stan did too. But we **could** just jump-start the honeymoon!

I moved so that I was straddling Stan's waist, smirking at him. "We should consummate our marriage."

He turned light red but didn't fight me as I unbuttoned his pants. "Right now?"

"Yes." I reached into his boxers and played with his balls. "Come on, you know you want to." I leaned down and lightly kissed his neck.

He shuddered beneath me and then suddenly I was on my back on the floor of the limo with him attacking my neck. My hands found their way back up and out of his pants to tangle into his raven hair, holding him to my neck as he hastily pushed my pants down along with my boxers and lifted my shirt up after unbuttoning my formal jacket.

I moaned when Stan ran one hand up and down my length continuously, getting me hard very quickly. I shuddered and reached down for his pants again. When I reached the top of his pants again though, he grabbed both of my wrists and pinned them over my head. He held both wrists there lightly as he pushed his pants down to his thighs - I had kicked my pants and boxers off of one leg, leaving them hanging loosely off of my ankle.

The hand of his that had pushed his pants down grabbed onto my cock again and began to move up and down in a rhythmic motion. I bucked my begging hips up to rub against his hard cock and practically begged him:

"Stan take me," I moaned loudly, "now. Do it."

He chuckled, the lust thicker than ever in his voice as he did, and repositioned both of us so that the tip of his cock was prodding at my entrance. "We don't have any lube right now… You'll be okay?"

He's acting like we've never had sex without using lube before. I nodded. "Yes." My back arched and I cried out slightly as he pushed himself inside of me with a loud moan.

My hand gripped onto his when he moved it up slightly and he began to move in and out of me. Moan after moan ripped from my throat as he continued. My arms and legs wrapped tightly around him with my face right next to his ear, being sure that he could clearly hear each time I moan and cried out with every thrust he sent deep into me.

"Oh God," he groaned into my ear, "Kyle I'm about to…" He faded off into a loud moan.

"Do it," I cried just before I tensed and released myself onto both of our stomachs. I hated that I was normally the first to come, but I had to admit, it felt so amazing to have Stan still thrusting into me while I was still in that sensitive state.

Stan's thrusts suddenly became short and fast as he got closer. "Fuck Kyle, you're so t-tight…" He groaned again before he buried himself inside of me and came.

He stayed tense over me while I was still clinging to him, feeling his pulsing member inside of me as his DNA spilled into my ass. After those moments past, he collapsed onto me panting. I held him close to me and then groaned when he pulled himself out, I didn't care for the feeling of his missing cock. I always hated when we had to end.

"Kyle," he breathed as he planted light kisses on my neck and shoulder, "I love you so much."

"And I love you," I moaned lowly, "forever."

…

By the time the limo stopped at the community center, we had redressed and cleaned ourselves up to the best of our ability. We were sitting on the back bench seat cuddling when Kenny and Butters opened the door for some reason.

Stan stepped out and then held out one hand to help me out and up. He looked to the taller of our blonde friends and asked, "You guys beat us here?"

"Uh…no…" A small, light blush crossed Kenny's face - which never happened - and glanced over at Butters, who had a blaze red blush covering his face.

"Then why are you guys here right now?"

I looked between the two blondes' faces and then a thought occurred to me. "Stan, who was it again we hired to drive the limo?"

"Uh," Stan placed one finger to his bottom lip thoughtfully, "that would be Ken…ny…" He looked at me, mirroring the deep red blush I knew was covering my face. "You…"

Kenny scratched the back of his head as he nodded. "Both of us heard it all."

At hearing those words, I hid my face in my hands. Ohcrapohcrapohcrap! I cannot they heard us! Well, I guess it's a good thing they didn't see–

"Actually, we probably wouldn't have even known if Butters hadn't opened the separator to ask you guys something," Kenny said suddenly.

My face got even hotter. So they did see us…? OH! MY! **GOD**! Stan stuttered out, "S-So y-y-you guys s-saw us…?"

"Yeah…"

"Oh god Stan…!" I grabbed onto Stan's jacket sleeve buried my face into his arm - I seriously cannot believe my two best friends saw me and Stan going at it!

"Yeah, I know Ky," he muttered in response.

All four of us just stood there awkwardly for a few minutes before we all silently decided to go into the community center and wait for everyone to arrive.

…

As _"All I Ask of You"_ by Skrillex was playing, people were filing out of the community center bidding their congratulations and farewells to Stan and me. We appreciated the congratulations, and understood the farewells - some people were leaving for their out of state homes again, others were mostly saying it as a way to tell us they'd see us once we returned from our honeymoon in nearly a month.

When most everyone was gone, I pulled Stan out onto the empty dance floor and began to dance with him to the techno/pop song. It was one of the slower-ish songs, so we were mostly just goofing off as we waited for Kenny and Butters to finish hooking up in the bathroom so they could take us to the airport.

Before the song could end, Kenny and Butters walked over to us straightening their clothes out. When I saw them, I grabbed Stan's hand and skillfully spun him around so we could walk towards them to the beat of the song. When we met them near the door, the music stopped and Kenny suggested we get going.

"Also," he said as he opened the limo door for me and Stan, "we put you guys some clothes to change into for the flight in there. I suggest you two not getting it on again."

"Hey," I retorted as Stan climbed into the limo, "at least we don't fuck in a public bathroom."

"And the bathroom at Clyde's house," Stan added.

Butters turned bright red and ran for the passenger's seat of the limo as Kenny simply laughed and playfully shoved me into Stan's lap. "Yeah, yeah." He slammed the limo door shut.

I sighed contentedly and leaned back against Stan's chest with one arm snaking back around his neck. He kissed my cheek and then leaned back against the bench seat of the limo. He whispered into my ear, "Forever…"

"…and always," I continued in the same tone. I turned my head to him and gave him a chaste kiss.

Forever and always we would be together; nothing will ever be able to separate us again.

…

"Wow," I sighed as I dropped the pile of cards onto the bed in front of me and Stan and leaned back to continue eating my ice cream, "so many freakin' cards…"

He laughed and leaned back too so he could continue eating his ice cream too. "Well, that happens when people are excited about people getting married."

I laughed through a spoonful of chocolate ice cream. "True."

It's been…well, to be honest, I have no idea how long we've been at this hotel. After we got off the plane, we made a beeline for the hotel Stan got us reservations at and have been in the room ever since.

When we first arrive, we did what all married couples do first, we made love. I fell asleep afterward mostly thanks to jet lag and when I woke up again - about half an hour ago I think - Stan was eating some strawberry ice cream and going through the cards people had sent to our hotel room. I had grabbed my chocolate ice cream out of the mini fridge and decided to help Stan go through all the cards.

"Hey babe, can I have a bit of your ice cream?" Stan asked out of the blue.

I pulled the spoon out of my mouth, having just put some more ice cream in my mouth, and nodded. I went to hand him the small ice cream, but his lips connected with mine. His tongue darted into my mouth quickly retrieving every last bit of the dairy snack I had just put in my mouth. I nearly melted into the kiss, but he suddenly stopped.

When he pulled away, he winked at me and licked his lips. "Really good."

I set my ice cream on the end table beside my side of the bed and tackled him to the bed then. He dropped his ice cream to the floor - luckily it was empty. I smirked. "That was mean."

"Says the person who tackled me," he laughed.

"Well," I leaned down and playfully nipped at the flesh of his chest, "maybe I think you should be punished for it."

I felt him shudder beneath me as one of my hands traveled down and reached down between his still unclothed legs and tease his asshole with my middle finger. It was rare that I got to control our sex, but when I did it was generally because Stan wasn't expecting it. Good thing for me that by the time he realized I was in complete control, he was already willing to take it from me and in fact wanted it.

I brought our lips together and moved the hand that had been teasing him to stroke my now hard length before I moved my hips enough to be prodding at his hole. I hated that we had no lube in the room - Kenny had said he was going to send some for us, but instead he sent a whip, handcuffs, a ball gag, and whipped cream, (we both want to kill him) - since Stan wasn't all too used to being on the receiving end, but I could be gentle.

Slowly, I pushed myself into him, hearing him both cry out and whimper beneath me. He was hurting, I could tell from the look on his face. I kissed him again and slowly began to move. He moaned, but they came out alongside pained whimpers that told me that one of us needed to go buy some lube later before I topped again.

I lowered my head down to his chest as I picked up my pace and licked at every bump and crevice there, being sure to pay special attention to his nipples as I did. Before too long, the whimpers had all but vanished as I picked up my pace even further.

He wrapped his arms and legs tight around me, clinging to me for dear life as I reached down and began to pump his erect cock in time with my thrusting. His moans became louder and louder as I continued like I did. Now when he cried out, it wasn't pained or strained but filled with the same passion I had heard come from my voice every time before. I slammed deep into him and tensed up as we both cried out and released ourselves.

I collapsed on top of him, both of us panting and sweating with the aftermath. I pulled out of him and then rested my head on his collarbone with my eyes closed. His arms fell around my shoulders and held me to him tightly. That had felt wonderful! It always did though…every time I topped, I felt like I had just gone through ecstasy.

"Can I do that again?" I muttered to him sleepily.

Stan chuckled and said softly, "When we wake up, go get some lube and I'll let you."

I smiled wide and relaxed against him. "Okay." I couldn't wait, but then again I had the rest of my life to be in control for even a few times. Either way I didn't care though, I just loved feeling that closeness to him that came with our connection. And I felt absolute euphoria knowing that I would feel the same happiness I felt right here and now every day.

For the rest of my life.

The End


End file.
